


The Red Canary

by Ballycastle_Bat



Series: Batty's Olivarry Trash [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Barry Allen Angst, Barry Allen Works For The SCPD, Bisexual Male Character, DC doesn't follow their own canon why should I, Grief/Mourning, Most Canon Ships Present, Multi, Oliver Queen Being an Asshole, Oliver Queen Has PTSD, One-sided Hal/Barry flirtation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other guys hit on Barry too but he does not want, Other: See Story Notes, Past Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen, Slow Build, Slow To Update
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2020-01-31 16:00:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 42,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18594637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ballycastle_Bat/pseuds/Ballycastle_Bat
Summary: Barry Allen, forensic scientist for the SCPD spent his whole life chasing the impossible. However, his current fixation, he learns is not quite so impossible. Due to his meddling, he ends up as an ally to the city's vigilante. There's just one problem: they have a complicated history.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [[Thanks to my full beta Dwyn on the Flarrowverse server. Also thanks to my friends in Flarrowverse Shipyard [x.](https://discordbots.org/servers/473949999261155329) (:
> 
> Notes: So, I've been sitting on this fic for a while. I had a lot of fun exploring Barry's socialization with the Lances in Starling. As well as how that would effect his opinions on Oliver, so this Barry is a little different.
> 
> Warnings: at the start of each chapter.]]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry and Laurel get some news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[Notes: Thanks to my sensitivity reader for the exchange between Barry and Laurel towards the end.  
> Warnings: Grief, racism]]

“Barry, look, I love you but this really isn't a good time,” Laurel didn't even glance up at her adoptive brother as she quickly tried to finish a file she was working on.

It was the same as any other day, really.

“But I brought lunch,” Barry informed her gleefully. His motives weren't entirely pure though. He had seen the news recently that her former boyfriend Oliver Queen had been found after five years cast away with their sister.

She paused and glanced up at him. “Pad Thai?” she raised a eyebrow.

“Of course! What kind of brother would I be if I didn't bring your favourite?” he grinned at her and she felt just a tiny bit better about that week.

“Thanks Barr,” she stopped and her eyes were focused on a spot behind him.

He turned and saw Tommy Merlyn, a usual sight. Nothing out of the ordinary there. He knew they were hanging out, what the extent of that was though, Laurel didn't tell. So Barry did not ask. He stared in confusion until he saw the blond beside him. Oliver Queen. His insides plummeted and the muscles in his hands contracted, skin stretched tight over white knuckles. Barry couldn't even find his voice as Oliver carefully approached.

He thought he had _dealt_ with this. This anger, that hole in his chest that ripped open when he thought about Sara. He was proved wrong when Oliver spoke. To _Laurel_. To his sister. _Who does he think he is?_ Barry gaped inwardly, or so he'd hoped. The boy had a terrible poker face.

“Hello, Laurel.” Oliver said carefully.

Barry made a barrier between them with his body, his mouth drying up in the process. He looked Oliver in the face. He looked … different. There was something missing in his eyes, but he was still Oliver, that was certain.

“New boyfriend? He’s young.” Oliver’s tone was light and detached but his face scrunched up slightly.

“Did you get amnesia on the Island?” Laurel spoke up. “That's _Barry._  You saw him like every other day for several years.”

“Ah, CSI Allen,” he offered a hand to shake, but it was ignored. He looked around him to Laurel. “Can I see you for a moment?”

Barry turned slightly to face her. “You don't owe him _anything_.”

“I know. It's fine,” she glanced at Oliver. “Sure, Oliver let's take a walk,” she stood and gently pressed a hand to Barry's shoulder. A silent request for him to fall back. She could handle this, or she thought she could. She would hear him out, maybe.

His shoulders unsquared and Oliver gave him a look that was -- remorseful? He couldn't be sure, but it wasn't a look he could say he had ever seen Oliver bear. He also seemed muted, this wasn't the same air Oliver Queen had when he left.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to contain himself. When he calmed down from his anger at seeing his face, he remembered that the man was a castaway for the last five years. He may not have returned the same person. Not that it wiped his slate clean, but it _did_ change things.

Oliver paid for his recklessness and selfishness with five years of hell. There very well have been nothing left of Oliver for his family to hate. Part of that scared him. He Oliver aided in tearing his family apart, and he wanted to tell Oliver that. Take it out on him, but he knew it would do nothing.

He exhaled sharply and crossed his arms. “You alright, Barr?” it was Tommy who spoke now, trying to meet his eyes.

“Yeah, I'm great. What do you think, Tommy?” he glared at the floor.

“Hey, how about you and me go get drinks? You're twenty-one now, right? We could go, just us! We never hang out.”

“I don't want or need your pity, Tommy.”

“Hey, pity parties are my least favourite kind of parties!” Tommy nudged his arm but Barry didn't respond in the way the dark haired man was expecting.

“Okay, I get it, you're mad. I'll just go stop Laurel from murdering Oliver. She's a great Lawyer, I'm certain she could get away with it,” he winked, but hastened his leave when Barry didn't respond to him.

When Laurel returned Barry was by her side. “What did he want?” the words passed his lips before she could cut him off.

“I don't know, Oliver Queen mind games? It doesn't matter. You said you had Pad Thai?” She shifted the topic quickly.

“Yeah.”

“Let's go back to my place and eat.” Laurel suggested.

Back at Laurel's apartment, Barry grabbed a couple plates from the cabinet. “We don't get together often enough.” He set one down beside her along with a fork before going to set up his own lunch.

“We have dinner with dad all the time.” Laurel curved that statement around a piece of shrimp. "Well, when I can drag you there."

“Yeah, but I mean _we_ don't hang out.”

“Well, you're always off chasing werewolves … or mermaids? What was it this week?” she stood and .

“I was looking into bigfoot sightings up north.” He corrected her, but when he met her gaze he could see her smirk. “Hey! These were some serious sightings this time!”

"Alright, whatever you say. I need a distraction, so go on."  
  
“You're tuning out.” Barry frowned when he realised she wasn't listening.  
  
Laurel came back to herself at his words. “Huh? Oh, no I love hearing about your Yeti hunt.”  
  
“ _Bigfoot_.” He corrected with a sigh.  
  
“Right! Bigfoot … I was just thinking about when you first came to live with us.”  
  
“Thinking about how you never would have expected me to turn out this weird?” With a laugh he stood to bring his dirty plate to the sink.  
  
“You say that like I don't love that about you.” she rolled her eyes and took another sip of her wine, smacking his arm as he passed.

**[October, 2001]**

Quentin Lance called both of his daughters into the living room. It was the afternoon on a Saturday so he was blessed that they were both home. Even more blessed that Laurel wasn't off with her accursed boyfriend Oliver.

The two girls sat down in the living room, Laurel running a hand through her hair and shaking it out at the ends. “What's up, dad?”

Sara sat quietly next to her, not really saying anything.

“Barry is arriving next weekend and I want both of you to to be on your best behavior, he's been through a lot in the last year,” Quinton put his hands on their shoulders gently. “I need you to be the sweet

girls I _know_ you are.”

“This is the boy we knew in Central city?” Laurel remembered him the most clearly. He was one of the happiest kids she had ever met. He was always so excited to drag her around his backyard. She explained to him what every single bug they found was. “Isn't his mom one of mom’s college friends?”

“She was, yes,” Quinton sighed. “Nora Allen was a wonderful woman.”

Laurel frowned. “What happened to Mrs Allen?” she had distinct memories of helping Mrs. Allen bake cookies many years ago.

“Um,” he folded his hands together. “She died, sweetie.”

“What happened?”

He glanced at Sara for a moment, he was trying to decide of he should say anything in front of the fourteen year old. However, he decided that they would find the darkness in the world soon enough. “She was killed by Mr. Allen, that's why Barry’s coming to live with us.” there was no use in hiding it from them. They were still so young, Quinton thought, but it wasn't as if he could keep it a secret once Barry was there.

“What? Oh my god,” Laurel covered his mouth in disgust. She needed a few minutes to process this information. She couldn't imagine Henry Allen hurting _anyone_ . She could still remember him talking about his Hippocratic oath when she talked about wanting a job that helped people. Sara hadn't said anything so Laurel wrapped an arm around her.

When their mother arrived with Barry, he was glued to Dinah, having no intentions of pulling away from her. Not even when Laurel addressed him. “Hey, Barry, do you remember me?” she leaned down slightly so she was more his height. “When you were really little you showed me all the different bugs in your backyard.”

Barry nodded once, but didn't form a response otherwise. He didn't even make eye contact. Surprisingly, it was Sara who stepped forward and offered her hand to him. “I'll help you get settled in. You don't have to talk to me if you don't want to. I don't like talking either.”

Barry glanced up at Dinah who nodded in encouragement. “You can go with her if you want, Barry. It's okay.”

Barry took Sara’s hand in his and she lead him down to the guest room, Laurel grabbed his bag from her mother. “We got it,” Laurel smiled a little and hugged her mother.

The guest room was small, but Barry didn't care. He didn't want to be there anyway, the size of the room wouldn't change that. He sat on the bed and pulled his knees into his chest.

Sara stepped forward. “It's going to be okay, Barry,” she said softly.

Laurel sat on his other side and put an arm around his shoulders. “You'll settle in in no time at all and we’ll have tons of fun together, okay?”

“I want to stay with Joe and Iris,” he was insistent. He didn't want to be there. The only thing that got him on the train was encouragement from Joe. “I'm afraid of the dark.”

“I'm sure you do,” Sara spoke now. “but how's this, I'll sit with you and hold your hand until you fall asleep?”

Barry agreed reluctantly. He didn't like this. He wanted to go back to Central City. He wanted to be home. He let her hold his hand and eventually fell asleep.

**[Present]**

“I wasn't going to ask, but … are you okay?” Barry asked once he took Laurel’s plate to the sink as well.

“I'm fine.” She insisted. “Why wouldn't I be fine?”

“It's okay if you're not.”

“I don't want to talk about this.” She threw away the take out boxes. “I’ve given Oliver Queen too much of my energy for one day. What are you doing this week?”

“Alright,” he stuffed his hands into his pockets, leaning back against the sink. “Nothing really. This was my only ‘day off’ this week. There was another shooting in the glades this morning though, so I had to go look at that, I left the scene to bring you lunch.”

Normally, Laurel would make a joke about whether he’d washed his hands before bringing her lunch. Today she held her tongue. “I think dad mentioned that when he called me this morning.” Laurel commented, running a hand through her hair. “He said they think it’s gang related.”

“Gang related.” he sighed. “That's like a buzz term here.”

“Of course. What do you think it was? A vampire?” Laurel raised her eyebrows at him.

“I'm just side eyeing that whenever they find a person of colour dead in the glades the first theory is gang related. Even in the news. _We have no information but we suspect gang activity._ We have some less than favourable areas in Central too but I don't remember the news calling ‘gang related’ nearly as much. Maybe there is a lot of gang activity, but I'm not going to dismiss it until we actually have a proper look at the scene.”

“I don't follow?” Laurel frowned.

“When Tommy’s mother was murdered _Joe_ saw it on the news in Central City.” Barry began to elaborate. “but kids die in the Glades every day. The most they get on a good day is that same ten second spiel about how we have no information yet but it's probably gang related.”

“Oh, that's what you were getting at.” she sighed. “Yeah, I represented a mother who wanted the death of her son investigated.”

Barry ran a hand over his hair. “Anyway, if I agree to that lunch with Joanna you want if you stop trying to set me up with her.” Barry had more of an interest in her brother, Danny, but he wasn't about to tell Laurel that.

“Oh it's the girlfriend.” Laurel shook her head airly, her tone upturned slightly.

“I don't have a girlfriend.” Barry grumbled.

 **Iris:** _Worst day. Miss your face._

 **Barry:** _Want to talk about it when you're off work? At lunch with Laurel … Oliver came by to see her._

 **Iris:** _He WHAT? God. Honestly it's just the usual shitty customers. Be with laurel. I love you._

 **Barry:** _I'll call you when you're off work._

Barry slid his cellphone away, and returned his attention to Laurel.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry and Laurel take a trip to California to investigate reports of a man who can talk to fish. Laurel sees Barry's obsession first hand while Barry struggles with memories of Sara.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[Warnings: Trauma, grief, mourning,  
> Notes: Thanks so much for all the love!]]

When Barry got home from Laurel’s, he was tired. He hadn't planned on Oliver showing up. How could he have planned for that? The man had been legally dead since he was eighteen. He couldn't have prepared for that, not five years later.

He was getting ready to go away that weekend to look into reports of a man who could talk to fish down in coast city. When Iris got off work he called her and she vented about rude, shitty customers. Barry listened and provided as much support as she could. “You know,” Iris began. “Stacy asked about you today. I was wondering if you'd want to visit again?”

“I'll see if I can get a train ticket after my next case.”

“Okay! So,” her voice grew softer as she went on. “I was going to wait until you were back but do you want to talk about _You Know Who_?”

“ _Call him Voldemort, Iris. Fear of a name increases fear for the thing itself_.”

“I'll just take that as a _no_ then.”

There was a knock on Barry’s door. “Hey, I gotta get the door. I'll call you back. Love you.” he clicked off the call and went across the tiny apartment to the door.

Quinton stood waiting and Barry sighed. _Not today_. He thought desperately. He didn’t know what he could possibly say to him. They’d had a difficult relationship ever since Barry was nineteen. “Yes, Detective?” there was a distance in his voice that Quinton picked up right away.

“I came by to see how you were holding up.”

“I’m fine. Laurel and I are fine.”  
  
“That’s good. Can I come in?”   
  
Barry nodded his head a bit defeatedly and stepped aside. “Can I get you anything?”

Quinton declined. They both stood awkwardly inside the door for several agonising seconds that seemed to drag on forever. Barry didn’t have much to say and Quinton, well … he had a lot to say, but no desire to say it. “Have you been taking your meds?” he moved further into the apartment and saw his suitcase open on the bed, and the map of California. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“I thought I was an adult who isn't your responsibility?”

“Come on, Barry … you know I was...”  
  
“That doesn’t mean anything to me. You still meant it.”

Quinton ran a hand over his face. “I didn’t like my life, I wasn’t myself.”

“I don’t like my life either, but I don’t take it out on the people who love me. I grew out of that around age twelve.” It was clear that there would  be no reconciliation that day. Barry was too hurt, and Quinton too stubborn. No conclusion would be reached. No closure. Only walls and venom.

More silence. It was more than they’d spoken in years but it still looked like that was the end of it. “Call if you need anything.”  
  
“Yeah. Sure.” he had no plans to ask Quinton for anything.

* * *

Barry headed into work the next day, and he was surprised to see Tommy Merlyn standing in his lab. He knew Tommy. Of course he did. He had been Barry’s first crush. A fact that brought Barry nothing but embarrassment to think about. Though it wasn’t as if it was his fault. He was a hormonal thirteen year old boy and his older sister always had cute boys over. What else was he to do besides turn into a stuttering mess and avoid them at all costs?  
  
Tommy being there shouldn't have been strange. But it was then.  
  
“Lost?” Barry asked, slightly amused.

Tommy turned around. “Just the man I was looking for!”  
  
Barry moved to his computer and checked a few things. “How did you get past security?”   
  
“There was security?”   
“There was _supposed_ to be. Brandon must have wondered off again.”  Barry let out a breath and crossed his arms. “I have work to do.”

“I was wondering if you had any ideas on how I could make up for bringing Oliver to Laurel.” Tommy cut right to the chase, and for once he wasn’t joking.  
  
“Give her time, Tommy.” he brushed past him and started to adjust a few machines.   
  
“Could your maybe talk to her for me?” he gave Barry a bright smile. “For me? We were always friends, right?”   
  
Barry rubbed his face. “Listen, Tommy. I understand what Oliver means to you. I probably understand better than anyone-- but Oliver hurt my family. Most importantly he hurt _Laurel_.”

“You think he killed Sara.”

“Oliver didn’t kill Sara--but it still hurts. I don’t think you understand what kind of things have been dragged up. You and the Queens get to celebrate that Oliver came back alive, and the Lances and I have to deal with the fact that Sara isn’t with him. Give Laurel time.”

Tommy reached out and patted Barry’s shoulder. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” he smiled slightly. “You were always a good kid.” he sighed.  
  
“Yeah.” Barry looked up slightly, trying to hold himself together.   
  
“You’re really upset. I’m sorry for coming in here and stirring stuff up. You always were … soft, but not in a bad way.” The way Tommy said that made Barry feel strange. It had a tone. He didn’t like that.

“You saying I’m a crybaby?”  
  
Tommy laughed. “That’s not what I’m saying. Take care.”   
  
“Wait How’s Thea handling everything?”   
  
“She’s … hanging on.” Tommy answered before heading out.  
  
Barry frowned a little and went back to his work, repeatedly glancing at his clock. He left for Coast City in six hours. His anxiety was in high gear at the thought. He felt restless, unable to sit still.

It was about two o’clock when the door to the crime lab opened up. He glanced up to see Laurel. She pulled off a pair of large brown sunglasses. “Hey, is it too late for you to drag a plus one along to Coast City? Maybe this guy who can talk to fish is single.”

Barry huffed out a laugh. “Not too late at all. I still have some stuff to finish up but I’ll be ready to leave soon.”  
  
Laurel set down her duffel and pulled her hair back into a tie that was around her wrist. “Alright, what are you working on?”

“I am waiting for a test I started yesterday to finish. Then I'm going to process a SAE kit.”

“Ah.” Laurel nodded.

“Can't say much else.” Barry shrugged. “Trying to deal with that backlog though.”

* * *

When Barry finished out his day they packed up his old, used 2007 Toyota Camry and started down the road. “Do you want food? I've got snacks in the back seat but we can stop for dinner on the way.”

“We should stop and get food. Where are you staying when you get down there anyway?” she raised her eyebrows at him.

Barry adjusted his mirror. “I've got a contact out here who’s lending me her family’s old lake house in exchange for access to my research.”

“Wow, you've got contacts in the Crypto-world?”

Barry kept his eyes on the road. “Yeah.”

“How long are you staying?”

“However long it takes to find something.”

They made it about two hours before passing a city called Longview. Laurel was hungry by then. So they got off at the next exit and headed into a sit down place. It was on the smaller side but Barry didn’t mind. Laurel got a burger and Barry just ordered the same. When they were getting ready to leave though, Barry’s phone went off.  
  
His eyebrows hiked up at the caller ID. _Ray & Jean _. It took him a minute to recall the last time he’d spoken to either of them. His birthday, he decided. They had definitely called him on his birthday.

“Hello?” he put his phone on speaker when they got into the car.  
  
There was some shuffling. “Ray-- _Ray_ get away from the canvas Barry answered!” Jean called through the house.   
  
“Barry!” Another voice called through the room. “How are you, man?”

Barry almost felt a bit … shy. He couldn’t explain it. “What’s up, guys? Laurel is here too.”

“Laurel, hi!” Jean called through the phone.  
“Hey, babe!” Laurel called back.

“What are you all up to?”

“We’re actually on our way to your neck of the woods. We’re heading to Coast City.” Laurel explained easily, falling into conversation with them. Barry stayed quiet.  
Laurel mouthed her next words to Barry. “They called me earlier.” Barry nodded, now realising why they were calling.   
  
“What are you guys up to?”

“Oh, well Ray is doing a painting for some old rich people and I’m just writing. We want to talk about you though.”

“An older couple commissioned a painting of their granddaughter. You doing alright, kiddo?”  
  
“I’m twenty-two I’m hardly a kiddo.”

“Sorry, Barr. I still remember when you were five feet tall and had a little crush on Jean.”

“I-I didn’t have a crush on Jean.” Barry’s cheeks burned slightly.  
  
“ _Okay_ ,” said Laurel.

“Please stop by on your way to Coast City! You know you’re always welcome to stay with us.”  
  
“We’ll stop by if we can but we’re on a case.” Barry set the phone on the dashboard.   
  
“What kind of case?”

“There are reports of a man who can talk to fish!” Laurel grinned and picked up the phone as Barry pulled out of the parking lot. “We aren’t even out of Washington yet though. So we’ll see. Maybe we’ll bother you for some couch space on the way home.”

“Sounds perfect!”

“Okay, love you both! Bye.”

“Bye!” Barry called before Laurel hung up. “Were they expecting me to just spill about Oliver?”

“Most likely.”

“You know … Tommy showed up at my lab this morning.”

“I don’t want to talk about Tommy, we’re on vacation.”

“ _You’re_ on vacation.”   
  
“What do you do on these cases, Barr?”

Barry rolled his eyes and focused on the road. It was dark when they made it halfway through Washington. he flexed his hands on the wheel, ignoring his fatigue.

“Do you want me to drive for a bit?”

Barry declined and the drive was silent for a few more hours, leaving Barry to be drowned in his thoughts. “I might take leave from SCPD when we get back.” he said when they crossed into California and Laurel had woken up from her nap.

“That’s … very sudden.”

“I miss Iris.”

“Oh.” Laurel nodded slowly. “I can understand that.”

“Are you going to be okay with Detective Lance?”

“Of course.”

“I just ... hate this.”

“I know, Barr.”

“Why did he have to show up like that? Who does he think he is?”

“You’re preaching to the choir, Barry.”

“I’m sorry. He just makes me mad but he’s … he’s damaged, Laurel.” Barry had finally identified what he saw inside Oliver that day. Numbness. That island changed him.

“What do you mean?”

“Did you see him?” Barry pulled back onto the highway. “He’s got trauma. He’s not the same Oliver that left on that boat. There’s something _missing_. Kinda like how I was angry when my mom died, but different.” he thought back to how Oliver walked too. “His body language was even different. He has to remember though, right?"

“I did notice that.”  
  
“But even with that, did he think we were going to be so glad he was alive that it would erase everything? I’m sorry that he lost something on the island, but we don’t owe him anything. You certianally don't either.”   
  
“Can we stop talking about this?”

“Of course, sorry.”  
  
When they got into Coast City. He eyes struggled to stay open but he refused to let Laurel take the wheel. She didn’t know how he got on these cases. She had never joined him on one. It was always Sara with him.

Of course. Sara. Barry wiped his eyes.

“You okay, Barr?” Laurel frowned.

“Sara used to come on my cases with me. She called them _adventures_.”

“I didn’t even think about that. Am I intruding?”

It felt like yesterday that Sara was beside him in the passenger seat. Her window rolled down, feeling the sun on her skin. Her long hair tied back in her Starling City Rockets hat. Glimmering in a way that made Barry stare. She was beautiful.

His knuckles tightened on the wheel as he watched Laurel lay her head against the headrest. Having Laurel and Iris didn't make this pain any easier. Pain for both her and the loss, she must have been so scared when she died. Was she alone? Did she suffer? He didn't want to think about it.  
  
He would give anything to have her back. In a sick way, he was almost relieved he didn't see her when she died. He could force himself to picture Sara as the last time he saw her. Holding his hand over the center console, singing that terrible pop song she was obsessed with at the time: almost making him forget where they were going. Almost making him forget why they were doing what they were doing. Almost. He was able to be free with Sara. Free and honest without pressure or feeling like he was being judged or worse, like he was being studied under a microscope.   
  
Sara was his partner in crime. They were going to do so much together-- She was going to do so much. She was newly twenty, ready to take on the world. She had plans. She was a little lost and impulsive, of course. Many twenty-somethings are, but Barry always thought whatever she would do would be great. She would have excelled.

  
He smiled a little and shook his head. “Not at all. I’m really glad you’re here.” He headed towards the house. It was a bit smaller than the other beach side properties. When they headed inside it was clear that no one had used the place in a while. Barry pushed through. “There are two bedrooms, you can take whichever one you’d like.”

“Wow, this place is old. Nice of your friend to lend it to us, though.”

“Yeah, Fiona is great, and her kids are adorable.”

“Oh, she’s got kids?” Laurel started to go through he bag for her toiletries.

“Oh, yeah she and her wife have a four year old and a newborn.”

“That’s nice. You still haven’t found anyone you like, huh?”

The way she said _anyone_ caught Barry off guard but he was sure he was over thinking things. “No.”   
  
“Not Iris?”

“I don’t want to talk about this now.”  
“Alright, Barr, I just don’t want you putting your life on hold for a girl. Who doesn’t even like you back.”

“I’m not.” he dropped his bag on the couch. “It’s supposed to rain soon so I’m going to go out and collect some samples now.”  
  
“Barry, you’ve been awake for almost twenty-four hours.”

“I’m fine.” He disappeared out the door to get his CSI kit from the back of the car. Laurel just emitted a sigh and decided she had to trust him to know his limits, because he was as stubborn as she was and she just wasn’t up to fighting.

Laurel went to sleep in one of the rooms. The house was a little run down, but it certainly wasn't uninhabitable by any means. There were clean sheets and pillows on the bed which Laurel was thankful for. There was a note card on the bed _‘Good luck, Barr! Give Sara our love’_ the note made Laurel’s face fall.

He hadn't told them. Even after five years. She wondered why that was. Though she decided she wouldn't press tonight. She was tired, and Barry was tired. She stuffed the note away and hoped to manage things better tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurel meets a mysterious man on the beach before a not so peaceful dinner with her brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[Warnings: Mentions of alcoholism, giref, large dogs.  
> Notes: This fic is coming along slow because I'm terribe and signed up for a bunch of fan events, found insperation for my original works again, and started 12 other fics. (Self-control? Who dat?). I hope to have the next chapter out in about a week though. Also building up arguments is still working on, so sorry if it's choppy. Thank you for the love. (:]]

When Laurel emerged from bedroom the next morning. The smell of coffee wafted towards her nose. She frowned slightly as she stepped out into the kitchen. Her bare feet dragging slightly on the rough carpet. “Barr.” she mumbled as low music reached her ears.

“Hey, did I wake you?” Barry didn't look up from his screen.

Laurel got herself a cup of coffee. “No,” she headed over to where he sat and plopped herself on the sofa beside him. “Have you slept yet?”  
  
“No, I will tonight.” He continued typing away on his computer.  
  
Laurel sighed, giving him a one armed hug and leaning her head on his shoulder. She tried to think about the last time they just sat down together. Yeah they met for dinner a few times a week but they talked about work.“I know this is a tough time for all of us right now.” she closed her eyes. “I won't let you go running yourself down.” She opened her eyes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Alright? You can lean on me.”

“I’m fine.” he squeezed her hand, turning to grin at her when she leaned up. His eyes sunken, voice strained. “Really. Fiona said there’s a beautiful boardwalk restaurant in town. Dinner there tonight, my treat?” he needed to change the subject, to get her talking about anything else.  
  
“Alright,” she patted his shoulder. “When do you want to go into town and get supplies?”

“We can go as soon as I get this stuff input.” he promised before diving back into his work.

When Barry finished up his work he headed further into the main part of town, Coast City’s hub. “I think we might be able to find a few people to talk to us--”

“Barry Allen,.” Laurel rolled her eyes. wondering how Barry could miss this. “Anyone who has read an adventure novel or played a videogame knows the place to get information is bars and pubs.”  
  
“I really don’t do the bar scene.” Barry shook his head.  
  
He started piling non-perishable and foods that didn't require cooking into the cart. Lots of canned fruit and chips. Laurel raised an eyebrow at him. There was a perfectly good fridge back at the house. Though she brushed it off. _Maybe he’s worried about waste if he doesn’t stay as long as he expected._  
  
She tossed a couple cold coffee drinks into her baset and they checked out. When they got back, Barry just set the canned fruit on the counter. Laurel put her snacks and coffee drinks in the fridge. Barry returned to his work station.  
  
She stuffed her hands into her pockets and watched him awkwardly for a few seconds. There were so many questions she wanted to ask. So many answers she needed, but she knew she wouldn't get them right now. Plus his exhaustion would only work against her. So, she decided now would be a good time to take a walk. She headed into her room. The house was on a more quiet part of the beach, so she didn’t worry too much about being disturbed.  
  
She changed into her suit, an old one piece she'd had since she was twenty. She secured a floral wrap around her lower body as she headed down the stairs to the beach. The sky was clear as she walked down, feeling the sand under her feet. It was a calm she hadn’t felt in a while. Though it brought back memories.  
  
The last time she was on a beach, she was seventeen and the family had gone for spring break. Barry burned easily so Laurel was in charge of making sure he and Sara wore enough sunscreen, and Barry seemed to know about every single fish in the ocean. He was also very adamant about watching out for sea urchins.

Barry always seemed to know everything. Even when they were kids. He just had the answers to things but was never pompous. He was so eager to share what he knew, and sometimes was even glad when someone didn’t know it. She sighed and stared out at the water, moving closer, letting the water reach her feet.  
  
On that trip, Sara had hung on the beach with him but occasionally waded in the water with her. A few tears escaped when the tide reached her toes and she wiped them away just as quickly. She stared out at the ocean which seemed to go on forever.

For a moment she thought about just sailing away and leaving everything behind. She loved her job but she wasn’t sure how she would deal with seeing Oliver on the news every other night, as she truly believed she would. She hated it. Why did he have to come back, and to show up at her office the way he did? Laurel tried to let it go, but she wasn’t sure if he knew how.  
  
This trip was making her feel distant from even Barry. Her brother. The one person she felt like she still had a solid conncection to. How had she not known how he spent just about every other weekend since he was eighteen? How did she not know he wasn’t telling his friends that Sara was dead? She was lost. Trying to remember when things changed between them. She came up empty.  
  
“Don’t go in there, that’s the riptide.” a man’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

Laurel glanced up at the voice and found a man, probably around her age. He looked young, anyway. “Hmm?” Laurel hummed. “Sorry?”

“That riptide will swallow you whole.” he tried to warn, knowing the waters well. This wasn't his first time on a beach.

“Oh. I wasn’t going to go in.” Laurel shrugged her shoulders. She repressed a sigh as she crossed her arms slightly.  
  
“Just thought I'd warn you. I can tell you’re not local.” the man was tall, with light brown skin and dark hair. He was just trying to be friendly, Laurel hoped. Through she couldn't tell at the moment whether or not he was being friendly or flirting with her. She would have to wait that out.

“That obvious?” Laurel laughed softly and crossed her arms.  
  
He shook his head. “I just know everyone on this part of the beach and I’ve never seen you before.” A dog sat silently at his heels as he spoke. It was large, Laurel only recognised that it was a great dane from a comic strip Sara used to read. It was so big that it took her off guard at first, but she decided it best not to draw attention to it.

The creature was tall, with a alege head and large paws.The flat of it's back towards its tail bore an odd pattern in  its fur. It was like someome had stampted it with a sirl. The dark fur patteren curling almost perfectly. She'd never seen anything like it. Not the pattern, nor its size. It was so large that Laurel wasn't entirely unconvinced she could ride it if she tried. She'd never seen one up close. Great Danes, and other large breeds weren't exactly common in the area of Starling that she lived in. Most people had smal dogs.  _Or at least not giant ones_. She thought.  
  
“I’m Laurel.” she extended a hand and the man shook it. The man's dog seemed to take notice of her only then, it glanced at her but otherwise had no responce. Its behavior lead Laurel to wonder if it was a guard dog. She kept her eyes on it after that. Starting to feel just a little uneasy.  
  
“Carter,” he replied simply. “What brings you to the area?”

“I’m here with my brother, we’re staying at the house up there.” Laurel pointed behind them.  
  
“Oh, wow the Hershels? Haven’t seen them around since their youngest went off to college. I thought the house was for sale.”

“They good people? My brother is knows Fiona.”

“Best people,” Carter laughed. “I’ve known the family for … uh, years.” he took a slight pause before he shuffled his feet. “Anyway, I’ll lead you to your walk. I need to get Hawk home.”  
  
Laurel nodded. “Have a good day.” the encounter was friendly, but a bit off putting. She had expected quiet. Though, she didn’t blame him for wanting to be friendly. He didn't exactly know that she was fighting off an explosive cocktail of emotions. She continued down the beach; carrying her shoes at her side.  
  
The day was still fairly young, she figured she had time until sundown, so when she was done with the beach she returned to the house, hosing off her feet at the door before she did.  
  
“I’m going to change then we can go to dinner,” Laurel informed him as she slipped past him into the bedroom. Barry gave her a mumbled response which was a few seconds too late.  
  
When she emerged she wore a long skirt and a nice top. “Ready to go, Barr?”  
  
He held his credit card out to her, not looking away from the computer he was working at.  
  
“What?”

“For dinner.”

“ _Oh, no._  You’re coming with me, Mr. Science Man.” she shut the laptop lid and sat herself down directly in his lap. “Barry get up.” She wasn't about to let him lock himself up in the house for another night. She would drag him out by his ear if she had to, but she didn't want to resosrt to that.  
  
Barry rolled his eyes. It felt like he was thirteen again and refusing to get up for school. “Fine.” he complained and pushed her lightly so she would stand back up. He went to take a quick shower and get dressed before they went to dinner. He had a lot of grime to wash off, from the long car ride to the beach-- he felt gross but had been putting it off.  
  
The restaurant was a moderately nice sit down place at the end of the boardwalk. According to the pictures Fiona had sent, it wasn't exactly a jeans and t'shirt establisment but it wasn't black tie either.. He didn’t want to look like complete garbage..He settled for his nice sweater and a pair of trousers. Laurel wore a plain skirt with a blouse, something she would have worn to work.   
  
"You look niice." Barry smiled but it didn't quite reach his eyes. Laurel took in the sight of how tired he looked. Maybe he was running from the Oliver thing just as much as she was. She couldn't get him to talk about it though. She didn't want to believe he pushed himself this hard on every crypto hunt. It had to be beause of Oliver.   
  
When they arrived, they were seated right away when Barry gave Fiona’s name. After some discussion about ‘ _what Fiona was up to these days_ ’  (To which Barry provided only vague answers to at Fiona's request) Laurel and Barry were seated at a booth towards the back. It was directly beside the window, and you could see all the way to the water's edge.   
  
After the waitress, a petite brunette, took their drink order, Barry stopped her. “Could I ask you a question?”  
  
“Sure,” she smiled at him, but it was a bit forced. It was obvious to Laurel. Even if Barry missed it.  
  
“Know anything about a local legend about a man who communicates with the ocean?”

Laurel sighed. _Always work the case, huh?_ She wished he wouldn’t bring it up like that. She was sure this waitress has assumed Barry was going to ask for her number, after how animatedly he chatted with her. Though, that was just the kind of person Barry was. He was nice to everyone, unless they gave him reason not to be. His confrentation with Oliver had been unexpected, though not unheard of.  
  
The girl (who was probably barely out of high school) blinked a few times at the question. When she finally spoke she seemed to stutter a bit. “I’m sorry, is this some kind of prank show?”

“No,” Barry shook his head. “I’m sorry to put you on the spot. I’m a CSI.” he pulled out his wallet and opened up his badge. "See? Totally legit. No pranks here."  
  
_Oh god_ thought Laurel. _He really just took his fucking badge out in the middle of a restaurant!_ Laurel was now leaning on her hand a bit, hoping no one was starring. “Barry, you need to let her do her job. I don’t think she wants to talk about local legends right now.” she finally said, and there was something that left Barry, a certain spark that has ignited when he began to talk about this _fish man_ .  
  
“Oh, right. Sorry, Miss.” Barry shuffled his badge away and the waitress disappeared to have their order filled. However, Laurel quickly changed her tune a bit when she heard the girl mumble to her co-worker about the ‘freakazoid and his girlfriend at table two.’ After all, Barry was _her freakazoid_ thank you very much.  
  
Even with her frustration shifted (mostly) off of Barry she was tired. The stress from the situation was getting to her, and she just wanted to have a quiet dinner with her brother. She didn’t feel like that was too much to ask. Though, apparently it was. Because Barry couldn’t put down this case for fifteen seconds.  
  
When their food arrived, Laurel took her time. “So, tell me--” Laurel shoved a fork full of ravioli into her mouth and when it was gone continued. “--tell me about Fiona and her family.”  
  
“Oh, I’ve never actually met her kids before. I mean, sure they’ve burst in on a facetime call a few times and said ‘hi’ to me. I talked to her wife a little but I don’t know. We aren’t super close.” He throught back on Fiona a bit. He'd known her a few years and she'd grown closer to him than he'd ever grown to her. Sometimes he felt bad about it, but he built a wall around himself after Sara died. It wasn't something he could see himself easily breaking down.  
  
“You’re close enough that she lent you her family’s entire lake house.” Laurel was suspicious and didn’t buy it. Surely he had to be closer to them than he was letting on. She also wondered why he'd never mentioned her before. Though, he never talked about is Cyrpothunter nightlife. That was usually reserved for Sara. Laurel wondered if she would know more about Fiona if she tried harder. Though she pushed that thought aside for the time being.  
  
Barry poked at his own dish, it was something vegetarian. Barry felt weird eating meat while looking for a fish man. “Is the ravioli good?” though maybe that was just his hyper empathy talking.

Laurel crossed her arms over her chest, frustration building. “Barry.”

“Look we just-- We both saw something strange when we were kids.” He shrugged his shoulders.  
  
“What did she see?” Laurel pressed.  
  
“She saw a man with giant wings like an angel. She was a kid … he said his name was Carter and he was standing in a field a bit inland. Then she saw him on the beach. She also claims she sees him on occasion when she comes to clean the house, with his dog on the beach. Only now he's younger, like twenties, but it’s the exact same dog.”  
  
Laurel felt a chill down her spine. “A dog, really?” Laurel bit her lip.  
  
“Yeah. A Great Dane with a weird spot on its back like a spiral." Barry clarified, poking at his food rather than eating it at this point.

“Very funny, Barry.” Laurel rolled her eyes. “You had me going for a second.”  
  
“What?”

“I see what you’re doing.” she laughed softly. “You saw that man flirting with me on the beach, and now you’re playing tricks on me.” Barry was pulling her leg, he had to be. Didn't he? SHe assumed he could tell that she was bored on the trip. Or maybe he just wanted her to believe him for once. SHe wasn't sure.  
  
Barry blinked slowly. “Laurel … I haven’t left the house since I collected those samples.”

“Really?”

“Laurel, I swear on my mom’s grave. I didn’t leave the house or see you.”  
  
“So i’m just supposed to believe that this woman saw the guy who was hitting on me when she was seven? I’m also supposed to believe that she leant you her house but you’re not even close enough to her to tell her that your sister is dead? Who is this woman, Barry? How does she not know? Are you embarrassed by how Sara died?” Laurel was getting worked up and she knew it, but she couldn’t stop. “More importantly, who are _you_? It’s like I don’t even know who you are anymore!”

“I’m not embarrassed by Sara or her death. How could you say that?” Barry’s fists balled on the table. He missed Sara every single day. He could never be embarrassed by her.

“There was a note on the bed that mentioned her.” Laurel hadn't wanted to escolate this to an argument this heavy, but it looked like that was the direction the night was headed into. There was no turning back.  
  
“Did it ever occur to you that at one point, I stopped letting people in too, Laur?” he turned to one of the waitresses and politely asked for a box for his dinner. “Maybe I didn’t tell her because I’m _tired_ of everyone looking at me like I’m this poor helpless orphan? Can you imagine how my friends would look at me if told them my sister was buried at sea after I saw my mother murdered right in front of me?” Barry hadn't meant to snap to her. He was just tired. Laurel had the tendency to treat him like he was fragle, which he wasn't. He knew how to be guarded, he didn't need to be  protected or coddled. "You aren't the only one who locked up after Sara died."

“Barry, you’re the happiest person I have ever met--” Laurel tried to butt in, surprised by his tone. However, Barry cut her off before she could finish.

“I’m not all sunshine and rainbows all the time, Laurel. There is something broken inside me. It broke when my mom died and it shattered when we lost Sara, when I watched Officer Lance spiral into an alcoholic rage and try to blame everyone, even me for his problems! I’m _scared_ every damn day. I’m scared of the man in the lightning and I’m terrified that if I stop moving, if I dwell on that, I’ll never be able to put myself back together.”

Laurel took a sip of her drink after a weighted sigh. “I cannot _believe_ you’re still on that. There is no such thing as lightning men. Look, I believe that Henry Allen is an innocent man, even if some of the evidence suggests otherwise. But whatever you saw was just your eleven year old brain protecting yourself from that trauma.” Laurel had always been upfront about her stance on Henry Allen’s innocence. Even going as far as to fight to arrange to have him transferred to another facility south of Starling in Oregon. The move made both for his poor heart health and so Barry could visit with him more.

“So you’re saying my dad’s a liar, too?” Barry groaned in frustration. “I hate this. Why did you come here anyway if you thought I was crazy this whole damn time?” People were starting to stare now and Barry wanted out. He didn't want this again. He hated being stred at-- gawked at like he was an exhibit in a zoo. A wild animal/ It broought him back to his years of being poked and prodded by every mental health professional in Central city and the state of Washington.

When the waitress came back with a box and the check, he gave her his card and rubbed his face in an agitated motion.  
  
“Barry Allen, I do not think you’re crazy. I think you were a scared little boy who needed answers, but it's time to let go. Please.” Laurel really did mean well, she always had. Barry had become her little brother the first night he came to live with them. She could remember so clearly being sixteen when she sat on his bed and held his hand untiil he fell asleep. Much like she had done for Sara when she had nightmares. She had always just wanted him to find peace. Even if currently she was frustrted and wanted answers about the new mess in their lives. She wanted to know what as going on with her brother now, too. There was far too much at once.

“I knew you didn’t believe in me, I knew you were running away from Oliver and Tommy. I knew that, but I didn’t think you were just _using me_ to do it.” He pinched the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb. “I'm so stupid. God, I wish Sara was here right now.”

Laurel glowered. “Oh really? You’re going to go there?”

Barry released a shaky sigh. “That’s not what I meant at all, I love you.”

“You know what? Save it. I don’t even know why I came.”

Barry stood and picked up her box, stacking it over his. When the check came back, they headed to the car. "Yeah, it's a mystery to me too." he muttered. There wasn’t going to be an end to that argument that either of them liked, so they both stopped talking. They just left to the car with their food. The ride home was completely silent. Barry didn’t even turn on the radio. The silence weighed heavily on them both. However, both were far too stubborn to break it. Even if it suffocated them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry and Laurel have a talk after Barry has a nigtmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[Warning: Child death, drowniing, (all in dream), trauma, night terrors, discussion of intertwined trauma. humor to relieve tension, mentions of medical abuse and ableism/mental health stigma.  
> Notes: I sat on this chapter for a while I changed it a lot. I backtracked on a lot of things I really wanted to try. I also rewrote it from scratch at one point. But I have more chapters coming soon. I alo have a bit of a blindspot when it comes to writing kids 10-15, so I apologise in advance if some of that dialog flops.]]

 Barry Allen knew he was dreaming as he watched his thirteen year-old self throw another rock into the creek. He couldn’t quite get it to skip, but he enjoyed watching the water stir. "So, you like girls, and you like boys?" he was seeking clarification, not passing judgements. His eyes were still on the moving water.  
  
They came down to that spot a lot once Barry had started to open up. They would just sit up on the hill, watching the water as Sara complained about drama or Barry info dumped about his current area of study. When he had the energy to, anyway.  
  
"Yup! I looked it up online and it’s called bisexual!" The soft voice of a much younger Sara replied to him with that whimsical upturn it always had when they were alone.

Barry glanced over at Sara as she spoke and saw her shy smile. She looked exactly as he remembered her on that day. Hair down infront of her shoulders like a mermaid. It reflected in the sun like gold.

"Do you think that's weird?" Sara had seemed hesitant. Surprised even to find herself caring what Barry would think in the moment. If there was anyone she felt she could talk to about this, it was  _ him _ hands down.   
  
"No? Liking girls is normal. This stuff exists all over the place in nature." Barry shrugged his shoulders and looked out on the water. “Humans are the only ones who seem to think it's strange ‘ _ wrong _ ’. Which it is not. I’m happy you told me, I don’t feel as weird now, and I hope you feel better too.”   
  
_ A semi-lucid Barry observed the interaction. This was the first good dream he’d had about Sara in years. Sara usually haunted his dreams, alongside his late mother. A much missed sense of peace washed over him. He watched the scene in third person, like a movie. _

  
Sara studied his features. “Is there something you want to tell me, Barry?” She could have read him like a book even if things were different.

“I don’t know.” Barry pulled his knees into his chest and stayed focused on the water. Barry watched this dream somehow in third person, seeing his younger self’s eyebrows knit together in confusion.   
  
Sara moved a little closer. “I would never judge you.” Barry knew she was trying to be encouraging but it didn’t help. It didn’t ease the storm brewing in his brain. She touched his shoulder gently, growing more serious.   
  
Barry sat in his thoughts for a few seconds before he managed: “It's like ... I really like boys. Tommy and Ray are so cute, and they make me all blushy, you know. Like girls are ‘ _ supposed to _ ’. Laurel thinks I like Jean though."   
  


"I thought you loved Iris." Sara had found herself blurting out.

He shrugged his shoulders as he thought about Iris. Iris West was the love of his life, he loved her and his new sisters more than anything. It just wasn’t like that. “I do.” he paused. “I’m not like in love with her though. It’s like how much I love you and Laurel. It’s just as important to me but … I don’t  _ like _ you.”   
  
“I love you too, dweeb.” she leaned her head on his side. “So, are we going to talk about boys now? Because I have like, no one to talk about boys. What do you think of Ray?”

Barry’s ears turned pink. “Yeah, I think I realised I liked boys when you knocked me into his arms that one time.” Sure, Barry’s first crush had been Tommy Merlyn, but Ray made him realise he liked boys.   
  
If things had continued, if this was truly about the memory, he would have said so much more. He would have told her things he could never dream of explaining to Laurel. She would have shared things with him too, her dreams. He was so sure she was going to accomplish every single one of them.  
  
Before Barry could respond, the water from the creek claimed them. Shooting up the small hill they sat upon. Water filled his mouth as he screamed, his body ravaged by the current. He desperately tried to breach the surface. This was no longer a good dream; it was a nightmare. When he broke free, and took in a large gulp of air, he searched the waters for his sister. “Sara?” he called, coughing hard to dispel the water from his airway.   
  
The creak raged once more, forcing him ashore. To his left, Sara lay unmoving. She was gone. Her lips tinted blue inches from his face.

_ Barry’s eyes snapped open _ . A primal fear still sahcking his body, forcing his heart into overdrive. The feeling in his ears mingled with the sensation of the water. He wrapped his arms around his knees as his body shook with sobs, unaffected by the leaking roof which had soaked both himself and the bed.

It took him a few seconds to convince his brain that he wasn’t there. He wasn’t at the creek with Sara’s body. There was no raging wave coming to claim them. He was alone in his room, soaked in rain water from the roof leaking onto him. Logically he knew he wasn’t there, but the fear felt like that night all over again, with his mother. It felt like Moira telling them Sara was on the Gambit-- it was like all of it at once dropping onto his lungs. Cutting his breath into short shallow pants.

There was a sound in the kitchen before the sound of the door opening. “Barr?” Laurel said softly. She came to sit beside him. “It’s okay.” she reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. "What do you need, Barry?" It had been years since they had been in this situation. Barry had to have been fourteen the last time one of the Lances had found him after a nightmare.

Barry knew she wouldn't leave him if he insisted he was fine. She was far too stubborn for that. So he took her hand and leaned his head on her shoulder. "I don't want to fight anymore." Barry's tons was quiet. "Sara wouldn't want that. I'm sorry, Laur. I’m sorry. I hate this."

Laurel brushed his hair back and kissed the top of his head. "I know Barr. I'm sorry too." She was already tired of the fighting. She wasn’t even sure she could remember the last time they’d fought like this. About his dad, maybe. Back when he was still a little kid. Something she sometimes had a hard time convincing herself wasn’t a reality anymore.

Though there was part of her that would always see him as that angry boy who came to live with them after his mother died. She remembered so clearly holding his little hand until he fell asleep. Though she knew that was just part of being an older sibling.

Barry got up a little while later, to shower and change. Laurel waited patiently for him, unsure of what else to do. It had been years since Laurel had seen him that upset, or scared. It was almost easier when he was a kid. She brought him some comfort. Now, though. He had a better grasp on the reality of things, and she wasn’t sure if her presence helped at all. She still didn’t have it in her to leave him in a time like this.

When he returned from the bathroom in fresh clothes, there was a mug of tea waiting for him. He grabbed a can of fruit from the cabinet and ate that with the hot beverage. "Thanks. Listen Laurel … I know you don’t really understand this. I know it’s always been-- hard to watch.”   
  
“It’s not about me, Barry--” Laurel started to speak but Barry swiftly cut her off, needing to get this out.

“I know. But I have always dealt with things by pushing forward. I don’t want you to feel like I don’t care about your support. I do, but,” he inhaled deeply. He couldn’t afford any further fights with Laurel. “I have to keep moving, because if I don’t. Sometimes when you see stuff I’ve seen, and then something else happens. It’s hard. Because sometimes, everything can crash down at the same time.”   
  
“Are you trying to say I don’t understand trauma?” Laurel crossed her arms. She was already getting defensive. Which was easy in their current situation, he didn’t blame her.   
  
Barry ruffled the towel through his hair. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. I just-- I’m not pushing you away. I’m pushing everything else away so I can keep moving, and I want you to understand that, because Laurel, I cannot fight with you anymore. I have to keep moving.”   
  
“I’m not sure what this has to do with your mother,” Laurel admitted. The two things didn’t really connect outside of a family loss.   
  
Barry hung his towel around his neck. He tried to think of a way to explain how Sara’s death had dragged things from mother's death to the surface. 

“Imagine that clown trick, with the handkerchiefs. My mother’s death one handkerchief that I carried around in my pocket. I thought I had lost that handkerchief in the depths of my pocket, but then when Sara died, adding another, those  _ emotions _ were so similar to everything I thought I dealt with. I just had two handkerchiefs knotted together. Then Oliver had to come and get in our faces and it just pulled Sara’s out, but it’s so attached to that first one that it just comes right out along the way.”   
  
Laurel thought for a moment, processing the point he was making and allowing the point to land. “Which one of you is the clown in this equation, you or Oliver?” a small smile played on her lips.   
  
Barry rolled his eyes but allowed himself to laugh. “Oliver, obviously.” he sighed and rubbed his face. He was weak with exhaustion, despite feeling wide awake in mind.

Laurel sat down across from him. “Sorry. You don’t need to explain anything to me, Barr. You’re my brother, and I know where we stand. Even when we fight. Even when you’re pushing forward, I know the difference. That doesn’t mean you can’t talk to me if you need to, though.”   
  
Barry was tired of hiding from Laurel. His secrets that had died with Sara, and had become secrets once again. He stared down at his mug, taking a slow mindful sip. He screwed up his face; he hated earl grey tea, but he sometimes drank it for the health benefits.

“Please, please don’t tell me you knew.” Laurel trailed off. She wasn’t sure she wanted him to respond though.

Of course Barry knows exactly what she meant. “I swear to you that I didn’t know about her and Oliver.” Barry looked to his mug again. “... but when Sara left, I got a text message from her-- told me she had to do something. She said I might never forgive her, but she loved us. I didn’t know what she was talking about.” he released his mug and bit down on the inside of his lip. “That’s not what I meant though. I told Sara things  _ about me _ .”   
  
Laurel was determined to try to find some common ground with Barry. He was her brother after all; she didn’t want to spend the rest of their lives fighting. She was exhausted by the fighting, and with Oliver back she couldn’t be at odds with Barry. “What kinds of things?”   
  
“Well, Detective Lance, he kind of hates me.” Of course Barry defaulted to the easier topic. Lance. There had been a lot of history there.

“My dad does not hate you.” Laurel waved her hand dismissively. “He’s a pain in the ass but he doesn’t hate--”

Barry closed his eyes tightly. “Remember when I almost didn’t graduate middle school? Because I was always asleep? I had to cram for my finals.”

She nodded slowly, letting him speak, but listening intently. She had never seen any evidence of her father hating Barry. He got frustrated at times; they all did. As far as they were concerned Barry struggled to keep a handle on reality and they weren’t exactly equipped to deal with that.

“I wasn’t having trouble sleeping. I was hopped up on as many antipsychotics as I could legally get as a minor. I couldn’t stay awake, I was often foggy and confused. He threatened to admit me if I stopped. After a while of me talking about the stuff that happened to my mom, he was worried I would be a danger to you or Sara.” he took a deep breath and Laurel could tell this was difficult. “He used to just go through my room, and throw away anything related to my mother's case. I started hiding things under the floorboards.”

“Barry, you needed help. I’m sure my dad was trying everything he could.” She tried to be gentle with this. Barry’s mental health was always a touchy subject.

“When I was eighteen, he shut me out, and only comes back into my life to ask if I’m taking my meds and to try to get me to forgive him. He only reaches out because Sara’s gone, he didn’t start until he accepted her death. He doesn’t want me and he never did.”   
  
“You see the best in everyone-- why not my dad? I know he’s messed up in the past. He's difficult but we love him. I’m sure we can deal with this--”

Barry set his mug down. “Laur, he told me to his face that I wasn’t his responsibility and that he didn’t even want me.” he looked down at the counter where he was messing about with his hands, trying to not see her reaction.

Laurel stilled his hands with one of her own. "I'm sorry, Barr. I know we both have our issues with dad, but I had no idea it was like this for you.”

“It’s not your fault.” he stared at their hands. He wished he had an answer for why everything was so messed up. He wanted things to be like they were years ago. When Sara held his secrets and someone believed him. Not that Laurel was different, but there was nowhere he could just  _ be _ anymore. He had to be a rock for Laurel, she deserved a break. Well, as much of a rock as he knew how to be in the city that had hardened Barry just a little bit.   
  
But things weren’t okay. Sara was gone, any relationship Barry had with his adoptive father was destroyed. He spent most of his nights up late scouring news articles and the internet for even the smallest hint of something impossible. Which were always met with dead ends. Now Oliver was back, and while Barry would never wish death on someone, and he was glad Oliver was alive-- it only made everything so much harder. Forcing everything to the surface that he’d swallowed down. Or had tried to.

Barry felt a bit better after talking to Laurel, but he also felt bad. Guilty. He knew she had hopes of fixing things, between the three of them and he didn’t want his past to interfere with that. He hoped it wouldn’t.   
  
She rubbed her face, kneading the palms of her hands into her eyes. “Listen, lets go to bed, and we can talk more in the morning.”

“Yeah,” Barry replied and stood, leaving the room to go clear off the sofa. He would have to get the rest of his sleep there as the bed was soaked from the storm.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurel convinces Barry to continue his search at the local bar where he meets some interesting folks. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[Warnings: Smoking, alcohol, bar, very lightly touched on fear of homophobia/homophobic violence.  
> Notes: Hi loves, I have up to like chapter 12 written so I'm hoping to get these out in rapid fire but we'll see. I'm also really new to Hal but he is going to keep popping up so please be patient with me while I work on intepreting him for this universe. ♡]]

Barry wasn't entirely sure if the haze of smoke around them was as thick as it felt to him in that moment. It felt suffocating and never-ending; clinging to his clothes and irritating his lungs. He wanted to be in and out of there as soon as possible. Though if Laurel had her way, they would be conducting the bulk of his investigation in places like this.

He made his way to the bar and asked the bartender for a beer. He got a bit flustered when the bartender asked what he wanted. Laurel stepped in and ordered two local beers that Barry had never heard of.

"Can I ask you a couple questions about the area?" Barry leaned partially onto the bar.

"I'm about to clock out, but Hal is a regular, and he’s local. You could ask him." the brunette woman behind the counter pointed out another brunet a few seats down. He wore an aviation jacket and Barry could make out a name tag which read _'Joardan'._

Barry was hesitant. They guy looked like he could easily turn Barry into a puddle on the linoleum beneath their feet. He always had to be careful when talking to guys in bars. He slowly stepped forward. "Excuse me, Sir, could I ask you a few questions about the area?" Barry finally managed.

The man set down his beer, turning to face Barry. He was truthfully, in Barry's opinion, very handsome. Tall with tostled up dark hair and a strong jawline. He took a brief second to collect himself. Strong, and a pilot? Barry was lucky he was so focused on the case, or he might have been very distracted.

Hal looked Barry over before he spoke. "Absolutely!" he seemed enthusiastic, more so than most people Barry approached on these missions.

Laurel hung back a bit. She admittedly wasn't sure how these things went. For Barry anyway, from a young age they were taught how to talk to the police by Quintin. She’d even seen Barry work cases before in Starling, but never had she watched _investigate_ something like this. It was a new experience, one she was extremely curious about. 

She remembered his first day at the precinct so clearly. 

He’d been moved into the small on-location crime lab at SCPD. It had been a big deal and she was almost sure it was recommendations from the officers Barry grew up with that secured him the job.  
  
 _She made her way up the stairs, exchanging quick hellos with the officers who recognised her. Barry was twenty he’d graduated early with high honors. It was a long road and Laurel was sure that Sara’s death had been what drove him to push himself so hard academically._ _  
_ _  
_ _“CSI Allen.” she smiled softly. “Where’s your gun?” her tone was teasing as she slipped in and set a photo on his desk. It was from the trip to the beach that felt like another lifetime even back then. He didn’t laugh, and that had bothered her at the time._ _  
_ _  
_ _When he turned to face her, his eyes were filled with tears. “I know.” he smiled at her and the tears flowed down his face._ _  
_ _  
_ _Laurel had embraced him. “Oh, Barr.” she knew that he’d always imagined this day with Sara. How could he not? That was their sister. Milestones were always hard. When Laurel got promoted was especially hard for her. So she could understand Barry’s emotional state now, to some extent. She was still struggling with it still but she gave Barry a soft smile and assured him “Sara would be so proud of you.”_  
  
Back in the present, Laurel watched Barry work carefully.   
  
“I’m Barry Allen, forensic scientist for Starling City PD. I’m conducting an investigation here.” he produced his badge. Laurel withheld any comments about that. Though she found it a bit silly.  
  
“That's a CSI, right? Like the T.V. show?” Hal and Barry exchanged a firm handshake. “That’s gotta be interesting.” he leaned a little closer to Barry, it was subtle.  
  
 _Oh no_ Laurel thought, witholding a laugh. Whenever people asked about Barry’s job, he tended to go overboard in educating him. She found herself kind of excited to see how this played out.

Barry shook his head. “Not really like the T.V. show. It’s the same job title but television makes it out to be pretty sci-fi. Like, you can’t get a DNA match in fifteen seconds, it doesn’t work like that.”  
  
“Oh, that’s interesting.” Hal, did truly seem interested, but Laurel could pick up his flirty undertones a mile away. “Do you have a uniform?” there it was, the million dollar question. It was usually women who asked Barry that, and when he was talking about it casually/ He would have noticed that it was a line if this was one of those situations.  
  
Barry, however, was far too absorbed in the task at hand. “No, we just have badges. Have you heard anything about a local legend of a man who can talk to fish?”

Hal scratched his head, mulling that question over for a few seconds. Laurel expected this to be about the time the man clocked out. “Not exactly? I mean, it’s not a some old local legend. It’s a relatively new thing.”  
  
Barry nodded thoughtfully. "Could you elaborate, please?”

“I’ve lived here my whole life, and the only local legend we really have is the Prairie Angel, but even then. I’ve only met like, three people claiming to have seen him That’s a _really_ old one. Last person I heard talking about it was some woman like, twenty years ago. No one really knew what she was talking about. I was little then. There were people gossiping about a teenager controlling some fish like a circus attraction. That was about five years ago, and it was just small rumours. Only came from one dude.” he gave Barry a very incredulous look. Barry wasn't sure if it was a 'you're crazy' look or a look judging his sleuthing skills.

Barry nodded. “I see, I guess those rumours warped before they made their way to us. Which was to be expected a bit. Could you tell me more about this kid? Also, this Prairie Angel?” he figured he might as well grab some information for Fiona as well. It couldn't hurt. He thought of her then, and how she didn't know about Sara. It made him feel sick when he actually had to think about it.  
  
“What does a CSI want with our local legends anyway?” Hal asked, he looked Barry up and down, something else Laurel noticed, but Barry had his face in his notepad. “There’s a lot that goes into this, can I get you a drink?”

“I don’t really drink too much on the job.” Barry came up with a lie quickly, something he only really seemed to be good at at times like this. “Urban legends came up in a case and lead us out here. They were so specific that they sent me out here to look for any more leads. I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say more, ongoing investigation and all that.”  
  
Hal nodded once. “I understand, officer.” though he seemed a little skeptical. Barry wasn't too surprised. People were either sceptical or they complied the moment the badge came out. He did have one or two guys bolt, but that was rare.

Barry was very quick to correct him. As he always was. “Just Barry is fine.”  
  
“Barry, what would you like to know about Fishboy and the angel?” he settled a little more into his seat, and asked the new bartender by name for another beer.  
  
“Notice anything suspicious around the time of the accounts of the boy with the fish? I understand that it was a few years ago, but anything you know would be helpful.”

“Hmm,” Hal hummed and thanked the bartender for the beer when he brought it. “Well, I was twenty-two, I had just started coming here. It was kinda like an old movie. An old man at the bar started talking about a boy doing circus tricks with fish out by the docs not too far from the edge of town. South of here along the beach, obviously.” he rubbed his chin as he tried to pull back the old memories. “Someone called him crazy, and he started talking in more detail about a blond boy who was making fish move around. Got a dolphin to flip out of the water and stuff. It was pretty late apparently, so people were skeptical. Some kid from the local school? He was vague. Kinda losing it to, so we didn’t put too much stock in it.”

Barry was taking down as many notes as he possibly could, though keeping up with Hal was difficult. “Did anything happen after that?”

WIth Barry completely avoiding his attempts at flirting, Hal got a bit more serious. Having gotten the impression that he was either too focused or not interested. “Well, a few people came forward after that. Saying that they had noticed it too but were too afraid to say anything.”  
  
“Do you remember anything else Mr. Jordan?” Barry pressed.  
  
“Ugh!” He scrunched up his face. “ _Mr_. Jordan? How old do you think I am?” he seemed more grossed out than offended. "I'm not even thirty yet."

“Sorry, Hal, sir.” Barry mumbled awkwardly. “What else can you tell me about it?” he pressed carefully, unsure of how Hal would respond.  
  
Hal thought for a moment, trying to settle on something. “It caused kind of an uproar. A lot of families moved out of the school district, so a ton of kids were pulled out of the local high school.”

“That’s actually really helpful, thank you. Which local high school was this?” Barry asked, which he hoped would be his final question.  
  
“It’s just it’s just called Hollygrove High.” He leaned over slightly. “I was class of 2001. Captain of the Baseball team, the Harpies.” he seemed proud of himself for that achievement. “I decided to become a pilot like my old man, but I had scouts all over me.”

Barry nodded, jotting down a few notes. “Great. This is really helpful. Anything to say about the Prairie angel?”

Hal shrugged his shoulders. “Not really. Honestly it’s just kinda one of those things that comes up once in a while. Some people think he watches over the city, some people think it’s just a prank. I _would_ say talk to the Hershel family, but I think they moved on a long time ago.”

“Thanks, this has been really helpful.”  
  
Hal could sense something was off, the determination in Barry seemed personal. He resonated with that, but it also confused him. “How about you leave your number with me. I’ll call you if I remember anything else.”

Barry turned over a new page in his notepad. “That would be really helpful, thanks.” he took down his number as Hal gave it ot him verbally.

Hal nodded once. “I really hope you find what you’re looking for, man.”

Laurel went to the bar again and ordered herself another drink. Just a whiskey with ice. She needed it after the last few days. Everything was kind of a mess, it would seem. 

Barry’s voice appeared on her left. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to take so long.” he smiled a bit sheepishly.  
  
Laurel turned to shoot him a small smile. “Don’t worry about it, I kinda enjoyed seeing you in action.” she brought her glass to her lips. “You get so focused.”

“He kept derailing.” Barry got the bartender's attention and ordered a single beer for himself as the night was over. “It was hard to get what I needed.”

“... Barry that guy was all over you.” she raised an eyebrow at him. She had taken a moment to give him the benefit of the doubt, that maybe he had just been too focused to notice. Laurel knew her brother too. "It wasn't stalling he was trying to get in your pants."  
  
Barry seemed surprised, and disappointed. _He was cute_. He thought wistfully. _Oh well._ He returned his attention to Laurel. “Well, Coast City is way more open than Starling. I’m not that surprised.” If this had been Sara, he would have allowed himself to admit that. He didn’t though, now wasn’t the time for that, he didn’t feel like it was anyway.

* * *

When they finished their drinks they headed back to the house. Barry went to collect a few more samples, and the others he was testing had finished. So he was able to study his findings. Which of course, were nothing. He felt defeated, he felt useless, like he wasn’t doing enough. However, that couldn’t be more false. He had been so invested that he was barely caring for himself, even with Laurel’s involvement.  
  
They didn’t see the point in staying much longer. It was hard. However he would need to go out to the school the following day, and after his investigation would most likely be done. Laurel came to sit next to him. “How about a movie?”  
  
“Sure.” his voice was flat. He thought about calling Iris at some point, as she usually didn’t bother him when he was on a case, but he thought he needed to stop relying on her. She had a boyfriend now and he knew if he called it might interrupt them, and Iris would let it.

Laurel disappeared into her room. After a bit of shuffling she returned with her tablet so she could cast a movie onto the television in the living room. “What should we rent?” she shuffled over on the couch so she was next to Barry. The sofa they sat on was old, but it was still in decent condition. She pulled the blanket from the back of it.

“You pick.” Barry leaned his head back slightly. She started to flip through ‘popular titles’ on her tablet. “You never saw Captain America, Thor was so good. Chris Hemsworth is so _hot_.” she nudged his arm. Barry could find himself objectively agreeing. Though he wouldn’t say he was a huge Thor fan. The god of thunder wasn’t on his top superheroes list.  
  
“Oh, lets watch the Avengers." Barry agreed with a smile.

She rented it, casting it onto the screen. “I actually really liked this movie.” her words were punctuated by Barry slouching down more on the sofa.  
  
She wondered what was on his mind, but her own was so full that she wasn’t sure she could ask. Not that he would tell her if she did. She rested her head on his shoulder. He easily accepted the closeness, wrapping one arm around her and tucking her under his chin. He wished he could have said that he made it through at least half the movie, but that would be a lie.  
  
He’d drifted off despite his own protests against his body to stay awake. His body was tired in a way he couldn’t ignore in the warmth and low lighting he was immersed in. He felt almost safe with Sara and Laurel, almost. There was still that lingering fear of the man in the lighting. There always would be. It was what kept him from even pursuing the life he wanted. 

Not that he ever had a chance to figure out _what_ he wanted, apart from wanting to help people he didn’t have a specific plan. Not that he didn’t want to be a CSI, but maybe if he hadn’t been as desperate he would have found another passion. He couldn’t know.  
  
It didn’t take Laurel long to realise her brother was down for the count, just as Hulk was making his appearance too. She knew Barry loved him. He was partial to Hawkeye and the Hulk. He also liked Tony Stark well enough. Even if Laurel wasn’t a huge fan of him herself. (Though that had more to due with the Billionaire playboys in her life than the character of Tony Stark himself.) She did think she remembered Tony Start showing his trauma moderately well.

If anyone had asked her about her favourite superheroes, she would have said Natasha, because she seemed to be the main badass female character. Laurel wasn’t exactly a fan of Superheroes, she liked it because Barry did, so she developed favourites. She didn’t think she believed in vigilantes. Though she couldn’t say it came up much.

Tommy, whom she spent most of her time with, wasn’t exactly pop culture savvy. Aside the occasionally bashing comment about Twilight, he didn’t much care for media that wasn’t eletronica music. Or at least, that she’d noticed. He only sat though movies for her, it seemed.

She wondered what Barry’s day would be like when he got up. She wanted to go in the water and she hoped he would join her but she doubted it. He was so invested in his case. He was a bit heavy against her, she turned slightly and her lips found his temple with ease the way he slumped against the back of the sofa. He didn’t stir but she still brushed his hair back slightly. She couldn't help but imagine him as a gooft tired preteen again. Though now the memories of comiing through to find him randomly dozed off on the sofa left a soul taste in her mouth.  
  
She hoped that they wouldn’t fight any more on this trip. But it was hard. Things had never been this hard before. They fought a little when Sara first left. They weren’t able to heal at the same pace, they clashed with their views on the situation. It was never like their fight the other night though. It scared her if she were being honest.

“Goodnight, little brother.” Laurel slid out from under his long arm and threw a blanket over him. Walking to her room, she knew better than to wake him. He would just go back to the case. She didn’t want that. She wanted this storm to be over. She remembered when they were so much closer and she missed that.

Though that lead to questions. Is this what Sara and Barry used to do together? Turning over every single stone until they collapsed from exhaustion? Was that the life her siblings lived and she had no idea, or maybe, Sara knew how to balance him in a way she never quite mastered. That made her feel-- she couldn’t describe the feeling. So she didn’t. She went to bed, leading the issues for the morning.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurel joins Barry in some less than offical investigations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[Warnings: Just some more Sara grief being touched on, but I think that's all. If you see anything I should note let me know!  
> Notes: I see every comment and I try to reply to all of them but sometimes I'm REALLY late, sorry! But thanks for the love and commentary, I love it! I still have a few chapters backlogged and I can't wait to share them with y'all <3]]

When Barry awoke on the sofa, confusion clouded his mind. He blinked a few times as he took in his surroundings. “Oh, I fell asleep.” he was talking to himself, of course. The room was cold and unfamiliar. He wondered how long he’d been out. The T.V. was turned off and the sun filtered in through the sheer drapes.   
  
Behind him, Laurel was in the kitchen. She filled a mug with fresh coffee and proceeded to drink it black. “Yeah. You were totally dead.” her tone was causal and teasing. She was finally settled in, and willing to joke around a bit more. “I’m not bringing you coffee, you have to get up. It’s eleven.”

Barry paled. “It’s  _ eleven _ ?” shooting up from his spot, he moved to get himself a mug of coffee. He ran a hand through his hair as he did. “Listen, uh,” he began. “I need to get to the school today. If you want to come with me, you can but I’m leaving in like fifteen minutes.” he vanished into the bathroom before she could even reply.   
  
She frowned. Always moving. He didn’t even sit still when they were kids. He had somewhat mellowed out as he grew up but Laurel felt she could still openly call him a busy body. When he emerged from the bathroom he was already fully dressed and his hair was mostly dry.   
  
Laurel watched him for a moment. “I’ll join you. Just give me a sec.” she disappeared into her room. After tossing her hair into a smooth bun and changing into her usual work attire, which she wasn’t expecting to wear but packed anyway.

The car ride to the school was surprisingly quiet. Barry was focused on his cover story. Which would probably be vague. He usually got away with it by flashing his badge. Which he was hoping would still work.   
  
The school was a bit father into town than the bar was, but that suited them just fine. It still wasn’t that long of a drive. The school was large, probably because there was only one. A whopping three stories. The amenities overflowed across the street. Directly to the left was a football field, across the street was a track. Barry wondered where the baseball team played. He made his way through the parking lot. He stood tall, and Laurel followed suit.

The front lawn of the school was covered with teenagers. Some threw frisbees or balls to each other, others were reading. Laurel and Barry assumed it was a lunch period. They certainly attracted attention. A few kids stopped what they were doing to watch Barry and Laurel, legal pad in hand heading towards the front. He rang the bell located beside the door.   
  
A soft voice came over the intercom. “Hello, can we help you with something, sir?”

“I’m CSI Barry Allen,” he pulled out his badge and held it up to the camera he’d spotted the moment they walked up, which he knew was probably attached to the doorbell. “I’m looking into a case.”   
  
He wasn’t buzzed in directly. “Just a moment please.”

The two waited, unsure of what exactly they were waiting on. Barry was worried for a moment that they were looking up his badge number, however he knew that there was no way the school’s system was high quality enough to even see the numbers on his badge.

Some time passed before a large dark-skinned man with angular features appeared behind a window on the left side of the first set of doors. He appeared to be in his late thirties and wore a security guard uniform. They were buzzed in and the man gestured for them to come forward. “Your badge, please, officer.” Barry offered his badge up easily. The security guard looked at it, his eyebrows pulling together. “Starling City? This isn't an impromptu drug search?”

“No sir,” Barry shook his head. “I’m actually here looking into something for a case up north.” he lied rather seamlessly, surprising Laurel again.   
  
“What exactly are you looking for?” He pulled his eyebrows together.

“I’ll be taking a few samples and looking into your records.” Barry explained easily.   
  
The man glanced at Laurel. “and you, ma’am?”

“Laurel Lance,” She extended a hand which he shook through the window. “With the valid and understandable criticism currently on law enforcement rising, I’m here to answer any questions staff may have about legalities, and your rights.”

Barry was surprised that Laurel had gone along with him so easily. “May I proceed with my investigation?”   
  
The security guard buzzed them in where they were met with metal detectors. Barry knew some schools were using them now, but he never expected to find a set at a Coast City high school. Laurel and Barry set their stuff aside and passed through the detectors. Once through security they were directed to the front office.   
  
There, the receptionist took copies of their ids and required they sign in. Barry complied. He knew the chances of the school following up were slim. “Exactly what were you looking for?”   
  
“We need the records of any and all the male freshmen who transferred out in 2006. We're also going to run some tests on your pool water."   
  
Laurel smiled sweetly. “Most of those students wouldn’t be eighteen yet, so their records should be unsealed.”

“We don’t have those here, I’m afraid. I’ll have to contract the district.” she informed them. “I can put in the request while you continue with your investigation.”

“Thank you.” Barry nodded and headed out to the halls. Kids barely paid attention to him here. As they continued Laurel started to become skeptical. “What exactly are you looking for?”   
  
“They have yearbooks from that year in the library.” he answered simply. Stopping a kid in the hall to ask where it was. They made their way through the halls. It was apparently on the second floor. 

Barry made his way to the check out desk when he arrived. A girl sat behind it, she couldn’t have been older than sixteen. 

She wore large blue headphones with skull logos over the ear pieces. Barry and Laurel could hear rock music blaring through it. Her soft pink painted nails were short, Barry noticed this as he watched her scribble a sketch of a large lily.    
  
Barry moved across the room. The library was much larger than anything he’d seen in high school. He knocked on the table gently, it got her attention and she glanced up at him “Excuse me. Can you tell me where they keep the old year books?”   
  
“Oh, yeah, absolutely. One sec.” The girl pulled off her headphones and dropped her stuff in a drawer that she could lock. “Which ones are you looking for?”   
  
“I’m looking for the ones from the early 2000’s. Specifically one from 2006.” Barry answered with a smile. He found himself reminded briefly of his late sister, but he tried not to think about that.   
  
“They remodeled a shit-ton last year so they had to split them up.” She seemed eager to help. Which Barry couldn’t say he exactly minded. “Oh, sorry-- you’re not a teacher are you? I’ve never seen you before.”

“No, not a teacher. My name is Barry Allen. I’m a CSI, this public defender Laurel Lance.”   
  
The girl turned down another shelf, trailing her fingers along the spines of the books she passed. Barry found it a bit distracting, but didn’t comment on it. “Oh, wow. A real CSI? Like the T.V. show?”

“Kind of,” he shrugged his shoulders. “The T.V. shows are a bit misleading about what CSI’s actually do.”

“I figured.” she sighed. “T.V. can’t get anything right. What is being a CSI actually like?” she looked back at him briefly before turning down another row of books.  
  
Barry laughed softly, glad that she sounded interesting. “Lots and lots of paperwork!” he was trying to keep it light and fun, as his job could easily go dark. “We have to document everything.”

“Oh wow, I’m bad at taking notes. I couldn’t do that.” she giggled, one hand over her mouth. “So you … work with bodies and stuff?”

“Not really.” Barry shrugged. “The shows make it out to be like we get called when there’s a body, but honestly most of my work as to do with theft. We also do elimination prints for families when their houses get broken into as well.”   


The girl rounded a corner as he spoke. “Oh wow, well, here you are! This whole couple shelves are the most recent year book all the way back to the 90’s.”

“Wow, some of these are older than me, and I’m really old.” he joked and pulled out the large book with ‘2006’ on the binding. “Thank you for all your help.”   
  
The girl left them to it, and Barry assumed she returned to her art. He started to flip through the pages until he found the pages of Freshmen.   
  
“I don’t know why you’re looking in there,” Laurel admitted, unable to hold back her confusion. “Do you know how many blond freshmen probably went here in 2006?”   
  
Barry flipped through a few more pages. “Exactly two-hundred and five.” he pulled out his phone and began to note down their names   


They headed down the stairs then.    
“Yes, but I can cross reference this with the names we get from the district.”   
  
Laurel sighed. “Oh, you’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just--”

“I know Laur, don’t worry about it. Do you need anything?"

She shook her and and they made their way to the pool, which another student directed them too. "So everything else I understand perfectly. Just not this." she watched him open the pool filter and look down into it. He pulled the bucket out and it was full of things like leaves and plasters. "I need to look like I'm doing something science-y for our shadow." he nodded his head upward.

Laurel followed his gaze. It soon landed on the security guard. He stood outside the pool area but watched them like a hawk though the glass window on the door. She knew then how out of it she was. She hadn't even noticed him.

Barry ran a few tests that involved things from putting small paper strips in the water to adding chemicals to it and watching it change colour. Barry wrinkled his nose in disgust. "The PH levels in this pool are … not even remotely standard."

"And that's bad?"

"It needs more chlorine."

"Oh." she watched him take a bit more of the pool water into a collection cup and they were off.

On the way back they passed the lunchroom and Barry paused when the sound of laughter reached them.

Barry felt school memories flooding him as they walked through the empty halls. He had trouble readjusting being so far from home. He clearly remembered Laurel trying to be encouraging. Sara as well, but she was younger, and internalised Barry’s boundaries and took them personally.

* * *

“Are you ready to start seventh grade?” a sixteen year old Laurel had asked with a big smile. Her hair used to be lighter, much closer to Sara’s tone, but still not quite as blonde.

Barry glared intensely at the floor. “No.” he hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. When he was this young, the nightmares were nearly unbearable. However he still saw how worried they made his new sisters, so he tried not to talk about them as much.

“I'm sorry, but listen, Sara will be with you if you need anything,” she patted his arm before driving both her younger siblings to school. The ride was mostly quiet, aside from Sara’s attempts to make Barry talk to her again, which seemed to be in vain. Barry was locked up, and still would be for a while.

Sara stayed by Barry’s side as they entered the building. “You have Mrs Mesner for Home room! She's very nice, you'll like her,” said Sara as she pulled Barry by the hand to this first period class. “We have the same lunch period, so if you don't have anyone to sit with you can come find me, okay?”

He didn't reply, he just went into the classroom. Sara took his attitude a little more personal than Laurel did. Which was to be expected. She was younger, only two years older than Barry.

It took months, but things did get better. Barry stopped pushing the girls away and embracing them, in small tiny steps that neither of them really tracked until one day he managed to come together with them.

Barry made his way across the crowded lunchroom, he was searching for Sara Lance. He hoped he would be able to pick her out in the crowd. He finally found her at a back table, with a blond boy and two dark haired girls.

The blond was the first to notice, glancing up at him. He awkwardly nudged Sara. “It's that kid,” he said lowly. “The one Emily was talking about!”

“Barry,” she smiled hopefully. “Did you want to sit with us?”  
  
Barry had just nodded slowly, smiling a little. He wasn’t entirely sure if she still liked him after everything.   


“He's like ten,” the blond complained. “plus he’s craz--”

Sara stomped down  _ hard _ on his foot under the table. “Ignore Tony, you can always sit with me.” one of the dark haired girls moved over without being asked so that Barry could sit down beside Sara.   
  
“My name is Chelsea.” one of the dark haired girls, the one sitting beside him smiled. “Sara said you’re her little brother now.”

Barry nodded. “Yeah. Our moms were best friends. Are you a twin?” he asked, a bit pointedly. It was a little out of nowhere, but it wasn't that hard to tell the two brunettes looked alike.   
  
“Yeah, we are! Camille and I are identical twins. You’re very perceptive!” it became obvious that Chelsea hadn’t spent too much time around kids, and had a hard time gaging that Barry was only a few years younger than them. Barry didn’t mind though.

* * *

A gentle hand came onto his shoulder. In the present he glanced over to see Laurel looking at him. She had that look she got sometimes, like Barry was made of glass. It always made him feel a confusing mix of embarrassed, frustrated, and guilty. “Everything alright?”

“Do you remember the Laurance twins?” Barry asked suddenly as they started to walk again.

“I haven’t heard that name in a long time. They were nice girls.” Laurel commented casually. “What about them?”

He stuffed his hands into his pockets as they pressed on up the stairs. “Someone told them that Sara died, right?” his voice was barely a whisper.   
  
“Yes, Barry. I told them.” she patted his back gently as they rounded a corner to reach their destination.   
  
Barry returned to the desk to learn they were not able to get a hold of the district but took Barry’s work email and number to forward them along to him when they could get them.    
  
Barry was still spacy when they got back in the car. He was far away, thinking about high school. Thinking about Sara. Snapping himself out of it, he shook his head and looked at Laurel. “I’m sorry, I’m just. I’m seeing Sara everywhere. In the car, the lunch room.” he closed his eyes tightly. “I’m trying to be strong.”

“Me too, Barry.” Laurel left a soft peck on his cheek. “How about we go see Ray and Jean now? I can call them and let them know we’ll be in tomorrow, and you’re letting me take a shift driving this time.”

Barry agreed reluctantly. He really did miss Ray and Jean.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry and Laurel stop for gas and have a heart to heart before we meet Ray and Jean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[Warnings: Just more Sara stuff.  
> Notes: Sorry, I think I went a little too hard for Ray and Jean considering they're side characrers and aren't even seen on Arrow. Only name dropped. lol. I kinda ended up down a rabbit hole when I was writing them. Also I promise the story picks up soon! I know it's a bit slow right now.]]

Barry's left hand kneaded into his face before gliding up to push his hair back a little more. His right was still firmly grasping the steering wheel. He didn’t want to go see Ray and Jean anymore. He missed them. He really did, but hey were perfect, disgustingly so to him. Jean was a wild card but always knew the limits, and Ray was like a calm ocean. He was far too easy to talk to for his own good. He didn’t want to go to their house on the level of sleep he was getting.   
  
Laurel leaned back slightly in the front seat. “I hope you didn’t think this trip was too much of a disaster. I’m really sorry you’re stuck on this case.”

Barry shrugged his shoulders and ran a hand over his hair. His hand came all the way around to scratch the back of his neck while a yawn forced its way out of his throat. (Despite his protests). Laurel was nearly asleep herself.   
  
Barry drove for six grueling hours that just seemed to trudge by. When they stopped, it was dark. He pulled up to a QuickTrip on the side of the road before gently waking Laurel. “Hey, I pulled over to get gas. I’m going to get snacks but there’s a Whattaburger nextdoor if you want me to get you food?”   
  
Laurel shook her head in response. “No way, it's my turn to drive so I’ll get out now.” she slid out of the car at the gas station. She moved around the car to the back seat so she could more easily retrieve her purse without digging around from the front seat. 

She moved inside and went straight to the back, grabbing herself a gallon of Arizona Tea and a box of poptarts. She picked out a few bags of M&M’s for Barry. He really liked those along with Crunch bars. When all that was gathered up in her arms, along with a small container of headache medicine she checked out.   
  
She made one trip back to the car. Barry stood, leaning against the car. He looked like a model the way he was posed, casually leaning back against the car, staring slightly upwards at nothing. She wondered briefly if he was thinking about Sara again. There, in that empty parking lot.   
  
He was. He closed his eyes lightly and let out a breath. “Another deadend. Who would have thought?” He laughed, but it was humourless and hollow. “They’re probably never going to send me those names.”   
  
Laurel frowned, she talked to Sara sometimes, of course. She had gone through a rather unique grief cycle. As she’d told Oliver. ‘ _ That’s what happens when your sister dies while screwing your boyfriend. _ ’ Though it was deeper than she would be able or even willing to tell Oliver. The mood swings between anger and pain, and the days where she couldn’t even tell what she was feeling.   
  
It had taken her years of therapy for her to even begin to sort out her head on the situation. She talked to Sara, she talked to Oliver. Before she knew Oliver was alive anyway. She could still remember the first time she felt something besides anger surrounding the incident.   
  
A sarcastic conversation with her therapist, Laurel was told to talk out her anger surrounding Sara’s death. It started with Laurel joking that she couldn’t just pour Sara a cup of coffee and tell her why she was upset.   
  
In the end, she hated herself for it, but she poured three cups of coffee. She pretended to have a conversation. She felt stupid. She hated the feeling of being caged in her anger. She wished she could ask them why they did this to her. Would being a better sister, or a less overbearing girlfriend have changed anything? Of course it wouldn’t have, and logically Laurel knew that. This had nothing to do with her.    
  
This however, didn’t change the fact that It was still a mess. It was a shit storm, a raging garbage fire that would follow her for the rest of her life. Her baby sister dying after running off with her boyfriend of almost five years. For the first time since the news broke she was able to cry.

When Barry found her the next morning, she was asleep with her head on the kitchen table, too exhausted from crying to move. He’d woken her up and sent her to shower without a comment about the three coffee cups. Making her breakfast while she pulled herself together.

There were still times she felt like she could possibly forgive him but not forget. She could never forget, but maybe she could let go and  _ breathe _ though she wasn’t sure if forgiving him would get her that either. There were others where she stuffed him into a box as being fully to blame for Sara’s death.

This version often painted Sara as an innocent angel who was manipulated by devil Oliver. However, none of her extremes were healthy. It took her longer than Barry to grasp that, she was  _ still _ trying to grasp that sometimes. (Which had more to do with Barry's stubborn unwillingness to ever call Oliver a killer than anything else.)   
  
Though all this didn’t change the fact that she had never heard Barry talk to the dead. She didn’t find it strange, but it was something she had never seen him do. He didn’t talk to his mother, but he talked to Sara now it would seem. 

She didn’t address him. What would she say even if she did? She quietly set her bags on the hood of the car and made her way across the small patch of grass that seperated the gas station parking lot from the In-n-out burger. She made her way through the doors. It was certainly open but it was as silent as the parking lot next door.   
  
She made her way up to the counter. Wanting to give Barry privacy she easily stalled in reading over the menu. Which was a feat. It was a generic fast food place. There wasn’t much on the menu. Finally, she approached the counter fully. The boy behind the counter couldn’t have much older than nineteen or twenty. He smiled at her. “Hi, welcome to in-n-out burger how may I help you?”

Laurel smiled brightly. “Hi, can I get three plain burgers, no cheese no condiments, a triple burger with everything, two rootbeers and could you tell me if there’s a liquor store nearby?”   
  
The boy punched everything in and gave her total, sending the order to the back right after. The boy thought for a second. “There’s Al’s a few miles that way.” he pointed to his left, where they’d come from. “If you’re leaving town though I’m afraid I’m not sure.”  
  
“Okay, well. Thanks anyway.”

“Hey, Adam!” the boy called over his shoulder. “Your dad owns a liquor store, doesn’t he?” as he spoke a boy who reminded Laurel oddly of Barry stumbled into view.

He was tall and pale with a wiry frame and a big mess of curly hair around his head. “Huh? Yeah. My dad owns the place down that way. It’s like, an hour out though. Mason’s. It’s technically in Clearwater Village.”

“Oh, great! My brother and I are heading out that way.” said Laurel as the wiry fast food worker brought her sodas to the counter and another brought out a few bags. Laurel thanked them and headed out, back to Barry.

Barry was seated in the passenger’s seat, staring off into space. He knew if he battled with Laurel about driving, it wouldn’t end in his favour. “I got road trip food! Weird plain burgers for you, and triple for me.”   
  
Barry reached into the bag and lifted one of them out and started to pick at it. He wasn’t really hungry. He had too much on his mind and he was too heavy. “Thanks.”

“Have you always talked to Sara?” Laurel phrased the question as delicately as possible while pulling out of the parking lot and back onto the main road.

Barry was silent for a few seconds. He grabbed his drink from the cup holder. “No,” Barry admitted. “but also yeah.” he sighed and leaned back slightly. “I talk to her when I go on trips like this, a lot more after the other night. I feel like a good memory got ruined.” 

“Oh?” she hoped he would elaborate. “what memory?”

“You remember that creek by our house that wasn’t even a creek?”

“Under the hill?” Laurel checked. “Like a block from the house?”

Barry nodded. “Yeah. Sara and I used to sit out there and told. We told each other secrets. I was dreaming about that, but then it was horrible. It was really upsetting, and I feel kinda lost again.”

Laurel placed a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry Barry. What were you talking about in the dream before it went bad?”

He took a sip from the paper cup in his cup holder, eager to change the subject. “Root Beer?”

“You don't like Root Beer anymore?” Laurel took a moment to glance at him out of the corner of his eye.   
  
Barry shook his head. “No I do,” he laughed softly. “Do you remember when I first came to Starling, and we had Root Beer floats with dinner?”   
  
“and Sara spilled hers all over you, and said you did it?” Laurel found herself laughing with him, but she didn’t forget him avoiding the topic. She could remember it so clearly. Like it was one year ago. Not almost a decade. It had splashed on her as well, and of course Dinah didn’t buy for a second that Barry spilled it.

“Dinah joked that I was officially a Lance because she made a mess of me.” he smiled softly and closed his eyes. He wanted to breathe in this moment. Desperate for something to hold onto in this mess.

“I don’t want us to not talk about her, and I’m sorry I’ve been so stubborn about it lately.” Laurel sighed, she knew Barry only wanted to help. That’s all Barry ever wanted to do. She couldn’t think of much that the boy did for himself. He threw himself into these cases to help his parents, he put aside his own feelings to help her.

Barry shrugged his shoulders “Everyone deals with things differently.” was his only response to that. “I didn’t expect Oliver to come back either.”

“God, I hate him. What on earth made him think it was okay to show up at the firm like that?” she scoffed and took a left turn. “I mean--” she sighed. “I just hate him so much.”

Barry nodded. “I know. He’s selfish, but also … I shouldn’t have said he was damaged. That wasn’t fair. I should know better, he just makes me so mad.”

Laurel shook her head and took his hand over the center console. “It’s okay, Barr. I knew what you meant. It must be hard for you, I mean, you probably relate to him on a level I really can’t understand. I’m sure that fucks with your head. I know how you are.”

* * *

The next town over, in Clearwater. Where Ray and Jean lived with their three dogs. Ray was an artist, and he made good money on his paintings and other types of art. Jean was a lawyer, having gone to law school with Laurel. Currently Jean was crating up the dogs. Laurel and Barry wouldn’t be in for another hour or more. So they’d elected to prepare pull out couch and catch up in the morning. 

“Do you think they’re okay?” Ray’s voice cut through the silence as he adjusted the fresh sheet he’d just placed on the bed that folded out into the living room.

Jean placed their last dog in a crate to the left. The rat terrier went in without too much of a fuss. He was the main thing they worried about. They didn’t want him running out the door when their friends came in. Tank laid on the floor, his wrinkled face not even lifting from the floor as he watched. Tank was an older rescue. Fifteen, very old for his breed, but he was hanging on.”I don’t know.” she answered honestly.

“You know them better than I do.” she patted Tank’s head as she spoke. “Remember buddy, try not to squish Barry. Okay? He loves you.”   


Ray had known the Lances since grade school. He was their nextdoor neighbor. Jean joined the friend group when she started dating Ray in high school. They were your typical high school sweethearts, and were still going strong. He pondered the question for a moment. “They’ll push through, sorry. I’m just worried. You know? I can’t even imagine that. If you ran off with someone and they came back but you didn’t.”

“Oh, Ray, Barry would never let me die.” as soon as the words came out of her mouth they tasted sour. “I’m sorry, I know that’s not funny now with Sara-- I just don’t know--” she took a deep breath. “She was such a nice kid.” she knew their long standing joke about her running off with Barry didn’t belong here, but sometimes she couldn’t process things any other way.

Ray crossed the room to gently fold her into his arms. “I know, darling.” His lips ghosted her hairline. “I’m almost done with the bed, then we can go to sleep and talk. This has been rough on all of us.”

“She wasn’t my sister, Ray. This is about them.”

He gave her a reassuring squeeze. “We all loved Sara, Jean. It affected all of us. Okay? Don’t say it’s not about us. It’s about everyone who loved Sara. It’s a little different for the Lances, but we loved her too. It’s okay.”

Jean pulled out of Ray’s arms, nodding and wiping her eyes. She relieved that he let go so easily. It was going to be a long night, and even a longer next day. They made their way through the back of the house to the master bedroom.   


Ray slid into the bed as is, just in his sweats. He was too tired to change. Jean took her time to change into her pyjamas. She needed the mindful activity to ground herself. When she finally joined Ray in the bed she didn’t roll over into his arms. She just pulled the blanket up and faced him. “I don’t want to talk about Sara. We haven’t talked about it since the funeral.”

* * *

Sara Lance’s funeral, and then Oliver’s had been horrible. Burying a twenty and a twenty-two year old was hard enough, but they didn’t have anything to bury. Just empty caskets. Nothing but secrets were buried that day. The preachers had read off something generic about young life. Ray and Jean hovered towards the back of Sara’s service. Barry had given a speech. Jean remembered watching him return to Iris’s side, like she was a lighting rod, grounding him safely.

Iris had gingerly taken his hand and held it tightly in hers. She looked at him like she wished she could take all of it away from him. Iris was the one who’d seen him through his mother’s death, and they hoped that she could help him through this loss as well. While they got themselves through it. Always underestimating Barry.

Jean had slowly gravitated towards Barry, softly taking his free hand and giving it a soft squeeze. There weren’t many words for the situation. Ray had gripped his shoulder gently, and when Laurel finally joined them, they embraced.   
  
She could still remember how the five of them stood there long after even Dinah and Quinton had left. “Okay,” Ray finally said after a few minutes. “You know what Sara would say if she were here, right?”

Laurel sniffed and looked up at Ray. “We get five minutes to be sad. Then we have to have fun.”   


Ray nodded. “Drinks on me, okay?”

It was then that they noticed Tommy, off to the side. He was far enough away from the grave that they almost didn’t notice him. When he and Laurel made eye contact he made his way over to them. “Hi.” for once he hadn’t been cracking a joke. “I didn’t know if you wanted me here-- but I cared about Sara too.” he didn’t look directly at them.   


Barry looked around at the group. Laurel was watching Tommy carefully but didn’t seem unwelcoming of his presence. Tommy Merlyn couldn’t keep a secret to save his life. So Laurel hadn’t totally written him off, she knew he didn’t know about the situation that had lead them all there.   
  
She remembered Barry standing tall, and taking a deep breath. Trying to contain the emotions churning within. “Thank you for coming. We’re going to get drinks. You-- I --” his voice trembled along with his body. He reminded Jean of one of their foster dogs with how he trembled. “You should come with us.” he’d offered, with a very forced half smile.   
  
Laurel hadn’t been able to handle the ‘fun’ night out. It took less than an hour before she completely broke down. Screaming at everyone who tried to calm her. “She was twenty years old! Why are we here?” fung through the air along with. “How could they do this to me? How am I supposed to--” Barry had moved quickly to lock her into his arms. Her tears soaked into his white shirt. (His suit jacket had long since been ditched on a chair. Jean remembered him forgetting it there.) Jean hated when she did that, remembered  tiny details which usually didn’t matter.  _ Who cares where Tommy's jacket was? _

From that night, she couldn’t remember what set Laurel off, if anything. She knew Tommy had talked about Sara, but what he said escaped her. What she did remember was that Barry consistently ordered very watered down cocktails, and she remembered his suit. The way he’d hung it on the back of the chair the moment they entered.   
  
Finding a suit that fit Barry’s slender form was a challenge. They usually ended up making him feel itchy. She knew this about Barry, but often forgot other things, like whether his birthday was in March or May.    
  
She remembered Laurel’s drink order. Just whiskey with ice. She remembered that Tommy had already been drinking from a gold plated flask on their way to the bar. How quickly he’d mussed up his suit. Ditching the jacket almost immediately and rolling up the sleeves. Even going as far as to unbutton the shirt. Tommy always hated looking stuff. She remembered what Laurel said, barely. She remembered how he’d looked at Laurel and Barry.

She couldn’t tell you the date though, or the time. While she was certain Barry and Laurel could pin it down to the hour. The anniversary of Sara’s funeral was in her calendar, though she never remembered it on her own. Usually they tried to get together around that time, it was very hit or miss though. They’d only done it twice total.

* * *

In the present, Jean wondered what kind of state they would be in when she saw him. She hoped with everything that they would both be better than that day. She rested her head on Ray’s shoulder. “Is it okay that part of me is glad Oliver is alive?” her words muffled slightly by his shirt.

Ray cupped the back of his wife’s head with a gentle hand. “of course it is, this isn’t something we need to be picking sides on.”

“I know, I just … I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel sometimes. This situation is just so horrible.” she couldn’t find another word for it. There were so many details, so many sides. There wasn’t any sole entity to blame.   
  
Ray closed his eyes lightly. “Neither do I. We just have to feel what we're feeling with this.” eventually, he felt Jean fall asleep against him. Her breathing leveled out and he let himself doze off soon after. He was sure they would deal with it together.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[Warnings: Just the usual + Barry Allen being short with Mr. Lance.  
> Notes: I'm going away for the weekend so I wanted to get this chapter posted. These two chapters are kind of rushed and kinda talk about a lot in narration so I apologise for that, but we are almost back to Starling where the story really takes off! We'll be returning in chapters 9 and 10.]

When Laurel and Barry arrived at the house, they let themselves in which was expected. Tank didn’t get up, but he woke and stared pointely at Barry, tail wagging, until he was given a soft pat on the head. Barry was rewarded with a grumble of approval and a harder tail wag. “Hey, Tank.” Barry whispered. “Were you waiting for me, buddy?” he laughed softly in the dark and set his bag near the armchair along with Laurel’s.  
  
Barry went ahead and let the rat terrier, Gumbee out of his crate, but he was content to sleep in it. Not even raising his head in Barry’s direction. Laurel focused on locking up before she retired to bed. “They’ll want to talk to us tomorrow.” she heaved a sigh.   
  
“Speaking of talking,” Barry began, sitting up on the side of the bed, he squeezed his hands together. “I’m sorry I avoided telling you about the dream I just -- I can tell you now, I guess.”   
  
Laurel sat up and rubbed her face. “Of course, what is it?”  
  
Barry shook his head. “It's-- just uhm.” he swallowed hard. Suddenly feeling a fear he wasn’t fully prepared for take a hold on him.   
  
Moving across the bed, Laurel turned to look at his face. In response Barry looked down, avoiding her eyes. He couldn’t do anything with her staring him down as she was. “Okay, tell me.” she smiled reassuringly.   
  
“Actually you know, I’m tired. I’m going to go to bed. This isn’t the right time. I’m being dumb.”

“Come on Barry--” she tried to encourage him but he cut her off.   
  
“It’s not important. Please forget I said anything. I’m tired from the drive.” he tried to insist, rubbing his face. Laurel decided not to push it and elected to turn in instead.

* * *

The next morning he awoke to the smell of blueberry pancakes and some sort of faux meat cooking. Barry stood and stretched his arms out in front of him. He slowly began to register the room around him. Right. He was in Ray and Jean’s living room. He stood and slowly the voices from the kitchen started to become more clear.   
  
“We’re fine, really Jean. You don’t have to worry about us. How is your firm going? I want to hear all about it.” That's right. Jean had just started her own firm. Barry felt a little guilty for forgetting that in all the commotion.

As Barry stumbled into the room he was greeted by three barely clothed individuals. Ray wore no shirt, his broad shoulders bare, and honestly at risk from the vegetarian meat sizzling on the stove. The girls wore just baggy t’shirts. Barry recognised his own on Laurel that she must have borrowed to sleep in. 

“I feel a bit overdressed.” Barry observed teasingly.   
  
Laurel passed him a plate. “Why didn’t you wake me up? I would have helped cook.”

“I never get to cook for people!” Jean objected. “You wouldn’t have helped you would have done everything.”

“What do you mean you never get to cook for people?” Ray butt into the conversation. “You have an entire husband who lives with you. You can cook for me.”

Jean rolled her eyes. “I guess.” her tone was teasing, purposefully airy. She lightly pecked Ray on the lips after she said it.   
  
“She’s too busy fighting the patriarchy to cook her  _ husband _ dinner.” Laurel pointed out. “and we all know Barry is the only valid man in existence.”

“Oh no, my wife won't cook me dinner? What’s next? Becoming a lesbian?” Ray brought a hand to his bare chest in mock offence.   
  
“Oh Ray, it’s about time you knew the real reason Laurel was here.” she wiggled her eyebrows dramatically, falling into one of their bits easily.   
  
“Ugh, disgusting.” Ray made a face. “In my good Chrisrian home? In front of the  _ children _ ?” he gestured to the dogs, and tank licked his hand, expecting a treat.

“That’s not funny, shut up.” Barry couldn’t keep himself from snapping. He’d been on a tight wire since he woke up.   
  
The whole room stopped and stared at him for a second. “Barry, it’s just a joke.” Laurel said, surprised by Barry’s aggressiveness.   
  
“It’s not funny, okay? So just stop.”   
  
Ray brought his hands together, thinking of how to proceed. “That was in hella poor taste, I’m sorry.” even if he wasn’t sure which part of his rant set Barry off, he was remorseful over the fact that it had upset him.   
  
Barry nodded once, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He didn’t feel much like eating anymore. Ray and Jean did have a habit of reacting to just about everything with a joke, they always tried to mind their audience though. Barry normally wouldn’t have put up that big of a reaction.   
  
It seemed that Ray knew he fucked up. Ray had a tell when he was being honest. Which he had done, and Barry interpreted him as being honest. He was still frustrated. Part of him knew he was probably overreacting, but it was hard not to in his current state.

He forced himself to eat, knowing that even if he could avoid a fight with Laurel, Ray and Jean would never let him get away with not eating at least one meal while he was there. He figured he would have to talk to Ray later. He just hoped he wouldn’t get caught up in how comfortable he felt around him.

Sure, the ridzidual crush was still there. It wasn’t major, but he noticed Ray occasionally. That wasn’t the issue though. Ray had been a constant in Barry's life. He felt comfortable around him the same way he felt comfortable around his family. Someone who never once made Barry feel ‘crazy’, like Sara.   
  
They hadn’t exactly made plans for the day so after Laurel showered the girls went to tour Jean’s new private firm. This left Ray and Barry alone. “Hands off my wife while you’re here.” Ray winked as Barry helped him clean up the kitchen.   
  
“Right,” Barry laughed once but it was rather forced.   
  
Ray put one of the pans back into place on the hanger by the stove. “I guess that joke’s gotten a bit old, huh?”   
  
Barry shrugged his shoulders and put away the pile of plates he was holding. “It’s not that, and I’m sorry I snapped at you. I know I can just talk to you normally.”

“Something I said was hurtful, Barry. You called me out, it’s done.” Ray shrugged his shoulders, moving to lean against the counter slightly. He didn’t want Barry getting worked up again. That wasn’t productive for anyone, and he did truly feel bad about the situation. "We can move on."

“I’ve been dealing with a lot lately, but that doesn’t mean--” Barry was cut off before he could say  _ but that doesn’t mean I can just take it out on my friends _ . He’d just had this conversation with Lance, about how he’d stopped taking things out on people a long time ago.

“We all have. Barry. We're all taking this one day at a time. I know where we stand, you rightfully yelling at me during a rough patch isn’t going to break us.” he moved back to the copper basin sink to work on the silverware. "Okay? Let's just try to enjoy the weekend. I haven't seen you since your college graduation. How have you gotten taller?"

“Why does no one ever hold me accountable for anything that matters?” Barry demanded. “I’m not a fragile baby. You can get mad at me sometimes! I won't shatter into a million pieces.”

“Barry,  _ Laurel _ used to coddle you. You’re her baby brother. I don’t do that. I have always given it to you straight.” he scrubbed a fork a little too hard. Obviously channeling his frustration into it. He wanted to move on, the weekend was going to be hard enough on everyone without all of this. "I know how to communicate directly.”   
  
Barry started to work on a small handful of silverware. “I’m sorry.” he moved the now dry and clean silverware to the drawer. “I shouldn’t have projected that. Laurel and I have been fighting all week and she apparently thought that I was just happy all the time now. We made up but its still an issue. This trip has been taxing even more than usual, but that doesn’t mean I should take it out on you.”

“You know you’re not the only one dealing with this right?” Ray crossed his arms, frustrated. “ _ We _ lost Sara, too. We love her, too. I know it’s a little different for you, but you’re not alone in this and acting like you are is going to tear you apart.”   


Barry dried off the rest of the silverware and put it away. “It feels like it sometimes. I try not to be a mess partly for Laurel and because I have to keep pushing forward.” he rubbed his face. “I’m not trying to shut you guys out of it. I just--Oliver showed up at Laurel’s work and I honestly thought for a second that I would try to fight the guy. So this just keeps getting worse and it’s all drowning me.”   
  
“That was … a really shitty move. You have more self control than me, I would have hit him in his smug face.” Ray shook his head.   
  
Barry washed and dried his hands, taking too much care with the action. It was a habit he picked up from university when he’d had a unit that required him to work with cadavers. It had been a short unit, but the habit continued for months after, when he just had issues feeling clean for a while after.   


Ray gave his shoulder a good squeeze. “Clean slate, okay? Sara would knock our heads together if she heard us.” his smile was pained, eyes boring into Barry with an urgency he seldom received from him.   
  
Barry found himself laughing a bit. “She really would have. Knocked my head right into yours. She was always so bold. Do you remember when we were climbing the little tree in your backyard, and Sara shoved me out of the tree, and your caught me?” Barry suddenly asked, drawing the conversation away from seriousness.   
  
“I was so confused! It was like a cartoon, I just caught you without even trying.” a soft laugh passed his lips. He nodded his head with the action. “How could I forget that?”   
  
They just talked after that. A little bit about sara, a little about their parents. Ray could be abrasive once in a while but Barry never thought he was a bad guy. He had a good heart. Everything was just messy, and he had to find a healthy way to navigate that. Though that wasn’t Barry’s strong suit. His response was always flight.   
  
The girls surprisingly didn’t get home until late. Apparently they’d decided to hit a new Thai place that had just opened up. They brought back enough food to feed a small army and surprisingly Barry came to wish that Tommy was there. Barry wasn’t sure if he would consider them close, but he was always nice to him.   
  
He sometimes got the feeling that Tommy had an idea of his crush and made fun of him a bit. There was never any proof of that though, and it was hard for him to determine that now, looking back. He just couldn’t think of a time that Tommy was outright mean to him though. He was different from Oliver had been. Barry wondered if he gave Tommy too much credit for being ‘not as much of a jerk as Oliver’. 

He decided he didn’t care if he was. Tommy was good to them for the most part, and that’s what he cared about. He pulled out his phone and sent Tommy a text, hovering over the send button for several seconds. Hesitating.

**Barry:** _Hey, Tom. How are you and the Queens doing?_

He turned his phone on silent and put it away. He cared about Tommy and Thea but hearing back from Tommy wasn’t more important than quiet. He also didn’t want to give him false hope about Laurel, but he did miss him, they were sort of friends. Even if he was annoyed by him sometimes.  
  
When Laurel and Barry retired to the pull out couch once more, it was late. He had alcohol fogging his brain and throwing him even more off balance than he usually was. He pulled out his phone and glanced at his missed messages.  
  
**Detective Lance:** _Where is your sister?_

 **Detective Lance:** _She’s not answering my calls or texts._

 **Detective Lance:** _I know you know where she is._

Barry heaved a sigh, and clicked on the little camera button. Once the menu came up. A quick snapshot of her reading a book that Jean had nearly thrown at her earlier. Barry quickly sent it with the caption  _ Right here _ .

**Detective Lance:** _Where’s that?_

 **Barry:** _With me._  
  
Barry didn’t check for a reply. He just went ahead and checked a few messages from Iris. He didn’t feel the usual warmth in his chest that he normally did when she messaged him out of the blue. Finally he scrolled down to Tommy. He was shocked to see a response. He had been a little drunk when he sent it.  
  
**Tommy:** _Gross! Don’t call me Tom. That makes me sound OLD. Thanks for reaching out though. I appreciate it. However, when did we become strangers, man? It feels like yesterday we were all eating ice cream and you and Laurel were fawning over some Superhero._  
**Barry:** _You threw Oliver Queen at my sister without warning._

Barry scrunched up this face. It was a little cold, but he wasn’t fully sober. The alcohol was definitely showing and He didn’t need Tommy’s attitude. Though he knew he had been asking for it when he reached out. Tommy was just … Tommy. 

Now he wondered what on earth his younger self saw in him. He decided it must have absolutely been his looks. Barry remembered how he used to have that dark, shaggy mane of hair that reminded him of Harry Potter. Because, Barry could still admit that he was handsome. However, he wasn’t interested in him in the slightest.    
  
He loved him with Laurel though, and with his family, most of the time. He hadn’t seen Tommy really try to be serious with anyone else though, so he had no comparison. What he cared about though, was that Laurel was  _ happy _ . The first time she laughed after everything was with him and Tommy. He remembered it so clearly. It was actually the moment Tommy had described.    
  
Tommy had just made a stupid joke about being able to outlast Hulk in bed. Barry had followed up with just a simple “Well, quality outweighs quantity, frat boy.”   
  
Tommy’s offended expression had caused Laurel to toss her head back, laughing with a freedom Barry hadn’t seen in her in  _ years _ . Over a stupid bicker fest. He remembered how happy he was to see her laugh like that, how warm he felt. Tommy however quickly became distracted by “how hot” Pepper Pots was.   
  
Tommy went out of his way to include Barry and Sara in their non-alcoholic activities. The same went for Thea. Barry wondered why Laurel went for Oliver over Tommy initially, but he stopped that thought. It wasn’t really fair. Even he was stupid when he was a teenager, he wasn’t sure if he could compare them.

Laurel closed her book and set it to the side, knocking Barry out of his daydream. “You okay?” Laurel raised her eyebrows at him when he jumped.

“Yeah,” Barry rubbed his face. “I was just going down one of my brain rabbit holes, ADHD you know.”   
  
Laurel nodded slowly. “Look, I’m sorry we’ve been fighting so much. That’s the last thing we need right now.” her arm came around him and she gently leaned onto his shoulder. He leaned his head against hers, wrapping an arm tightly around her, pulling her securely against his side.   
  
His free hand tangled up in the blanket and eventually they laid down. There was silence for a while, but Barry was sure Laurel was awake, he could hear her shuffling around. “Hey, Laurel?” he turned over onto his side.   
  
Laurel hummed questioningly in response. She didn’t push him, just showed that she was listening. She wasn’t sure what he was trying to tell her, but she was sure he’d come out with it eventually.   
  
“You know how we always joke that I liked Jean?” as soon as the words left his lips he felt something disturbing his insides. Ripping and tearing at his stomach and blocking up his throat: fear. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this afraid to tell Laurel something. “There’s been a really, really long misunderstanding.”   
  
“What do you mean?” Laurel turned over onto her side. She wasn’t sure what he could have to tell her at midnight when they were both drunk, but it couldn’t be good, could it?  
  
Barry could feel her eyes on him, and it didn’t help the lump in his throat. “I never had a crush oh Jean,” he laughed softly, fearing if he shut up, he would never be able to speak again. “I--”

“What do you mean?” Laurel’s eyebrows pulled together. “You always had a crush on her.”

Barry played with his hands. “You know she wasn’t the only person around when I was young.”   
  


Laurel just stared at him. “I mean, no, but you always got all weird when she was around.”

“Yeah, I didn’t really even start thinking about people like that until I was like, thirteen, though.” He shrugged his shoulders.   
  
“Please don’t say Sara. I can’t handle this right now.”

Barry mimed gagging. “N-no. You and Sara are beautiful and amazing but--uh--  _ no. _ ” he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I hate this.” he admitted. He had only ever talked to Sara about this, and it was so easy because she said something first.

Laurel reached out hesitantly, carefully resting a hand on his back. “It’s okay, Barr. Whatever it is, you can tell me.” her hand glided slowly across the backs of his shoulders. Comfortingly, albeit a bit clumsily.

Barry finally looked at her again. “I never liked, Jean. I’m gay.” the words hung in the air and he was sick to his stomach. The Lance family wasn’t aggressively homophobic as a whole. Apart from a few comments from Lance when the topic came up on the news, it was just an unspoken thing. Something  _ other _ . Something that didn’t exist under that roof. (or so everyone thought.) “That’s the dream I wouldn’t talk about, when I told Sara, and I just-- really held onto that memory. Now it feels tainted.”

She smiled a little and after a few seconds of silence she leaned her forehead against his. “I love you.” she squeezed his shoulder gently. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Tears pricked at the corners of Barry’s eyes. “I--” his throat was dry and he smiled a little. “Sara was the first person I ever told. Only Sara knows, and we living in Starling, Laurel--” he looked away from her.

Laurel sighed and pulled back slightly. “When we get home, no more secrets, okay? Does that sound like a deal?”   
  
Barry smiled very weakly. “Yeah, Laur. That sounds perfect.” as he spoke, Tank came and rested his head on Barry. “Hey there,” his voice was soft as he patted his head. The dog grumbled low in his throat. “Can you come up?” he patted the bed.   
  
Tank tried, but couldn’t get his back legs up. So Barry did the only rational thing (to him at the time, with all the alcohol in his system) and moved his set up to the floor next to the bed, so Tank could put his large head on Barry’s middle.   
  
“Barry Allen, you’re not sleeping on the floor with the dog.” Laurel rolled her eyes.   
  
Barry shrugged. “He can’t climb up anymore.” his hands idly rubbed the dog’s ears. He thought about getting a dog before, but he wasn’t  sure if he had the right environment for one. His apartment was small and his hours were so crazy. He slowly drifted off to sleep with the comforting weight on his midsection.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry and Ray have a bit of a heart to heart before he and Laurel go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[Warnings: Nothing new.]]

When they awoke the next morning, they had their day somewhat planned. Barry was going to hang out with Ray in the art studio while the girl hit a few shops in town. The village was small but had a few specialty shops.   
  
Barry wandered around the studio. “You want me to talk about Sara, don’t you?” he said after a few minutes of silence. As he spoke he watched Ray angrily scribble a few thumbnails in his sketchbook. He crossed them out as he finished them.   
  
“We can talk about anything, Barry. It’s been what, two years since your smart ass graduated early?” he grunted and scratched out another pose before flipping the page over. “Can you sit like this?” he held up a picture of a young girl seated, holding a book in her arms with her legs crossed.   
  
Barry’s eyebrows met in the middle of his forehead. “Are you saying I look like an eleven year old girl?” his tone was confused.   
  
“No, but you’re a human being with a skeleton.” he roared with laughter and Barry stood before falling to his arse on the floor with a grumbled ‘fine.’   
  
Ray stood and stared down at him. “Okay, great. That’s all I needed, sorry.” his laugh was so charming. Barry felt comfortable around Ray much the same way he did with Laurel and Sara, but not quite as much.   
  
Barry nodded and returned to his seat. “You’ve always been drawing, right? You used to draw Sara’s canary sometimes.”   
  
Ray drew a few concept sketches, his hand flying across the page too quick for Barry to really follow. He checked a few things before circling one of the concepts and beginning to draw it a bit bigger on a new page. “I would like to say I’ve been drawing ever since I could hold a pencil but that wouldn’t exactly be accurate.” he put the photo beside him.   
  
Next, he pulled out some sort of paint swatch with blobs of dried paint that were all labeled. Barry thought it looked like he’d made it himself. Ray began noting colour names next to the sketch.”I started to get serious when I was around eleven. I knew it was what I wanted to do.”

Barry nodded thoughtfully. “I can relate to that, I guess.”   
  
The room was quiet for a bit. “You’re holding out on me, Allen.” Ray teased with a grin, hoping to prod him a bit. “Usually you’d be talking a million miles an hour about something, like that particle accelerator in Central City.”   
  
Barry grimaced. “That’s years away and this situation isn’t exactly  _ usual _ .” the room was silent once more.   
  
“I suppose you’re right.” Ray shrugged his shoulders. “I just miss you guys. I thought moving out here would be good for us but we just kinda ended up isolated.”

Barry crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “There was something I wanted to say yesterday, but I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.” he stared at Ray’s face. “but I think by bringing it up like this, I’m making a big deal out of it-- and I know the timing is off, but it’s come up, and I didn’t want you to find out later and feel like I was keeping things from you specifically.”

“Spill the beans, bro and I promise not to make a big deal out of it,” he began sketching on the canvas. “but can you check that drawer next to you for Burnt Umber? It’s in a tiny tube.” he didn’t look up from his work. Which half made Barry nervous and half relieved. It was a weird feeling. On one hand, he didn’t have his eyes boring into him, but the downside was that he couldn’t see his reaction.   
  
Barry opened the drawer, it was filled to the brim with tiny paint tubes. It lived up to it’s not so professional, but very  _ Ray _ label ‘ _ shit I never use _ ’. It was still sealed and perfectly clean. Unlike the wrinkled, paint stained tubes that Ray was fumbling with. Despite being a comedic person, Ray was almost always genuine. He didn't like being indirect.   
  
He crossed the room and handed it to him. “Thanks. You were saying?” he pressed as he started to sketch directly onto a small canvas.   
  
“You know that joke we have about Jean and I?” Barry began, and he felt more nervous than he did with Laurel. He trusted Ray, or at least, he  _ thought _ he did. His brain seemed to stall for a moment before he shook that thought away. He’d known Ray since he was a child. He trusted him.   
  
Barry ran a hand into his hair and stared down at the floor as Ray gave a half hearted “eeyep,” type sound, heavily focused on his work. Making good on his word to not make a big deal about it.   
  
“Well, uh, that joke is kind of--” Ray interrupted him, which frustrated Barry but he stayed silent about it.

“--offensive? Overused? Sorry. I guess it is kinda rude of us to keep dragging that up.” he started to sketch out a background of bookshelves with a T-square. “I mean, you’re an adult now.”

“Yeah. That’s what I meant.” his voice was so defeated.   
  
Ray set down his paint brush. He had felt the switch in Barry’s tone. “Don’t shut down, Barr.” his voice was softer than Barry expected. It made Barry feel more confident.   
  
“I never liked Jean.”   
  
Ray turned to Barry, staring at him now. His eyebrows pulled together. “Uh, Barr, you expect me to believe that? Every time you saw her you couldn’t wait to get out of there.”   
  
Barry crossed his arms. “You know, Jean wasn’t the only person there, right?”

Ray’s eyebrows pulled together even more. “Don’t tell me you liked Laurel?”   
  
“God no.” he rolled his eyes. “I don’t like girls at all.”

Ray stopped and Barry could practically see the wheels turning in his head. “Me?” he mouthed, pointing to himself.   
  
Barry nodded once. “and Tommy Merlyn, an embarrassing factoid, but yeah.”   
  
“I’m flattered, but I’m married.” the words rolled off his lips with a chuckle. “Sorry, I probably shouldn’t joke right now, huh?”  
  
Barry found himself laughing too, genuinely for the first time in a while. “With you? I would be worried about any other response.” he was being honest, and Ray seemed to be keeping his word. He went back to his painting and Barry felt like a weight had been lifted.   
  
It was easier to talk now. “Do you want to talk about Sara?” he asked carefully. “It’s okay if you do. I’m sorry for cutting you out of this, everything has just sort of been a mess.” he explained as he ran his hand through his hair.   
  
“I’m more worried about you and Laurel.” he admitted, leaning back in his chair slightly, canvas forgotten for the moment. He hadn’t laid any paint down so he wasn’t worried about it. He turned to Barry. “I know I said I wouldn’t make a big deal, but why now? Seems sudden.”

“Oliver returning has dug up a lot and I had to tell Laurel last night because something happened and when I told Laurel, I realised it was just another thing weighing me down.” he shrugged his shoulders, hoping Ray would take that answer.   
  
Ray nodded thoughtfully. “I can understand that. When everything first went down, I told Jean I would kill him if he came back alive. Like, I actually wanted to kill him for what he did to Sara and Laurel.” he ran a hand through the back of his head. “I was younger and stupid then. I think what really gets me, is that I was serious. But ... you and I both know that’s not me.”   


Barry crossed the room and pulled up an extra rolling chair. He sat on it backwards, leaning on the back slightly. “I had a fairly rough few stages of grief. I spent a good six months hating Sara. It took me too long to realise that this was just a tragedy. That isn’t to say that Oliver and Sara were saints but … they both made their choices. I am glad that at least Oliver returned safely, because I don’t think either of them deserved to die for what they did.”   
  
“You’re right. It took me longer than I want to admit to kind of … get to that point. You’ve all always been like family to me, and it was so easy to paint her as this innocent child whisked away by Oliver.” he heaved a sigh, turning back to his sketch. “I wasn’t entirely sure what to believe for a while.”   
  
Barry nodded along, he could tell that Ray was being serious. This was something he’d struggled with. He continued. “It took me a long time to let myself be mad at both of them for a while, and then try to let go. Though, I’m still not there. I don’t think I ever will be. My original anger is gone but … Sara isn’t the kind of person you just forget.”   
  
“You’re absolutely right.”   
  
“I know Laurel can handle herself, but if you need me to come out there and intimidate him, I can--.” Ray had started, being genuine.    


Barry raised a hand. “Don’t even worry about it. We’ve got it covered and I’m hoping he won't continue to harass us.” it was tiring of course, worrying about if Oliver would show up. Especially when no one could even tell what he wanted. Mind games? Comfort?   


Ray shrugged his shoulders. “I think he might think he can make up for things.”

“Yeah, right.” Barry scoffed.   
  
“I really would never say he deserved what happened. No one deserves something like that.” Ray started, and they continued to talk about the struggle of the situation that couldn’t seem to stop pulling them in so many directions.  
  
Elsewhere Laurel and Jean had decided to hit the very small stripmall just a few blocks away. “We absolutely have to try the Sal’s bakery. I’m thinking we could head there now and then we could get lunch up the road.” Jean was eager to show Laurel around, mostly to avoid talking about anything not related to the town. Jean didn’t want to talk, for fear of saying the wrong thing.   
  
It was certainly a cute cluster of shops. They headed inside and Jean seemed to have a usual that the owner knew, so Laurel ordered the same. They sat and talked a bit about the town. “I just love it here,” Jean grinned widely. “Everyone is so friendly, and the communities are nice.   
  
“So you’ve said. Look, Jean, Barry and I are here to get away from everything,” of course Laurel saw right through her. It was easy to, at least for someone who had known her as long as Laurel had. “I don’t really want to talk about it, but it’s okay if it comes up.”

* * *

It was late when the girls returned home with their goodies. It had been a long day. “How about tomorrow we all go to the beach together?” Jean suggested. “It’s a bit of a drive but I don’t mind renting a hotel on the beach, we could stay the week.”   
  
“That sounds amazing, but I’ll need to take a raincheck. I really need to get back to work. I cashed in quite a few vacation days for this trip.” he admitted as he rubbed Tank’s belly, causing the dog to grumble contently.   
  
Jean nodded and sat down so she could give him a tight hug. “Alright, but don’t be a stranger okay?” she kissed his cheek. “We love having you. Both of you.”

Barry returned the embrace and he found himself missing the old days. Yeah, he had way less of a grip on his emotions but things around him were happier. He had Sara, Ray and Jean, Oliver was only a mild dick. He felt like he could be happy. Now he felt more than ever that he needed to find answers about his mother’s murder, and that’s all.   
  
The next morning, Barry and Laurel were packed up and ready to get on the road again. Jean pulled Barry into a tight hug. “It was so good to see you. Next time you’re in town we’ll do more fun stuff, okay?”

“Yeah.” he smiled a little.    
She kissed his cheek, and moved to the side as Ray took Laurel’s bag. “I’ve got this. Could I have a minute for some guy talk with Barry?”   
  
“Gotta scare him off your girl again?” asked Jean teasingly.   
  
Ray raised his eyebrows. “You’re my girl again?” he said in mock surprise. “I thought you left me for Laurel.” but Barry followed him to the back where he tossed in Laurel’s bag. When he shut the trunk he crossed his arms. “Listen, man. I thought about the other day, and I’m sorry about what I said. I get a little more now why that upset you, especially with everything going on right now putting us all on edge.”

“We already made up, it’s fine.” Barry shrugged, but he avoided his eyes. He worried Jean was here, he hadn’t gotten time alone with her to tell her. He felt anxious about the idea of her finding out second hand.   
  
Ray shook his head and placed his hands on Barry’s shoulders. “Listen. I meant what I said about you and Laurel being family to me.” memories flashed behind Ray’s eyes of sitting in the Lance’s living room, sketching Sara’s canary while Barry watched with wide eyes as the image appeared on the page. He could remember Laurel telling Barry not to bother him. Ray always waved her off with a ‘I don’t mind. You know I always love an audience.’    
  
Ray realised then he should have noticed the way Barry blushed when he winked at him. At the time he had so easily matched up Barry’s behaviour with his apparent shyness when he first came to live with the lances. Now he knew better though.    
  
In the present, he spoke again. “Not to get sentimental before you leave but: I love you man, all of you. Jean and I would never want to make you feel like we don’t. So I’m sorry that we did.”

Barry felt tears well up in his eyes as he looked at Ray. One of the reasons why he felt so worried about opening up to his friends and family was because he lived in Staring. Staring wasn’t like Central City with it’s out and proud police captain or it’s generally accepted Pride events. 

Barry could actively remember seeings people at the train stations in Starling after pride, rushing to hide any evidence of the day before they got on the train. He could remember clearly moving to block the eye contact between a young girl with a pride flag painted on her face, and a very angry looking man across the train car.

“Thanks. Listen … if you haven’t don’t tell Jean. I was going to tell her while I was here but I never found a time. I don't want her to think I went out of my way to tell everyone but her.”

Ray nodded and hugged Barry. “Alright, my lips are sealed.”   
  
Barry returned the embrace. “I’ll see you soon.”   
  
“You better.” he ruffled up Barry’s hair again before Jean joined him.    
  
Jean wrapped Barry up in a hug as well. “Come back soon, or we’ll come up there.” she laughed softly and pulled him down slightly so she could kiss his forehead.   
  
“When I come back to town, I’ve got some things I want to talk to you about.”   
  
“Anything Barry, I’ll see you soon.” she hugged him again before Barry and Laurel left.   


* * *

Barry drove through the night. He felt almost empty as they went. It’d been easy to ignore how lonely Starling was. Everyone for the most part had moved away, except for Laurel and Barry.    
  
Barry finally broke the silence a few hours in. “I’m sorry for springing that on you the other night. I know timing was bad, but there was a lot going on and I felt bad for making a big deal about the dream.”

Laurel shrugged. “Sometimes things need to be said when they feel right, and that’s okay. What matters is that we don’t have anymore secrets.”

Barry nodded in agreement and he was glad that he wouldn’t have to discuss this again for a while. The car ride back was long. They didn’t really speak of anything important. Laurel brought up a few cases and Barry talked about the progress S.T.A.R. Labs was making on the particle accelerator. 

When they were finally coming into town almost a day later Laurel stopped. “Can you make a left here?” Laurel pointed to a road.   
  
Barry obeyed. Making the turn. He knew the road. Laurel was taking them to Sara’s grave. He continued down the road. “In the compartment next to you, there’s a jewel case. Could you get it out?”   
  
Laurel fished around in the pocket on the door until she produced the CD in question. It had rhinestones on the front. In sharpie in handwriting that was unmistakably Sara’s was written  _ Cryptohunting Party Mix 2008. _ She put the CD in the radio and  _ hot and cold _ by Katy Perry began to fill the silence of the car.   
  
Barry put his hand on the center console. “Sara put this CD on repeat all the time until …” he trailed off but Laurel knew what he was talking about. She took his hand and they headed out to the car.   
  
“Gosh this is so bad.” Laurel couldn’t help but laugh.   
  
“I only got moderate input,” he said quietly. “The rest was all hers.”

“Let me guess, the Taylor Swift and O.A.R was you?” she asked, reading the back of the CD foldly. She sighed softly and put it away. She noticed Barry nod from the corner of her eye.   
  
“That’s right.” he smiled a little sadly. By the time he pulled into the cemetery he was singing softly under his breath. “... _ I always turn the car around _ …” he pulled into a parking space towards the back before they got out of the car, legs stiff from the ride.   
  
They walked in mostly silence. Barry continued to sing quietly as they drew closer to Sara’s grave. The cemetery was empty despite it being early afternoon. The siblings sat down on the grass on either side of her grave marker. “We should have brought flowers.”   
  
“Sara would hate it if we showed up with flowers and mourned. ‘Stop being so mopey, losers!’” Laurel crossed her legs.   
  
Barry sat down as well. “Do you ever wake up and just miss her?” his voice was soft, barely audible.   
  
Laurel nodded. “All the time, like a big jagged hole in my chest.” she squeezed his hand.   
  
“The first few months after, whenever I got a new case, I would reach for my phone to text her, but once I picked it up ... that feeling would wash over me.” Barry looked up a bit, trying to keep from crying. “I’m really glad you’re here with me Laurel.” he turned to glance at her and found that she was smiling a little too.   
  
“Me too, Barr.”

They just sat there for a while, they didn’t need much in the way of words. When they finally got up to leave, they spotted a figure in the distance. Tommy Merlyn. Barry’s eyebrows pulled together. He wasn’t sure why the Merlyn heir would be wandering around a graveyard.   
  
“Barry, you go on ahead. I’ll meet you at the car.” she nudged Barry’s arm gently. He nodded once and headed back to the car.

* * *

Tommy placed a small flower arrangement. “She really liked tulips, right?” he stuffed his hands into his pockets.    
  
“She thought it was wild that they came back every year from bulbs.” she crossed her arms, emitting a sigh. “What are you doing here, Tommy?”   
  
He reached out and removed a few dead roses from one of the vases by her grave. He showed them to Laurel. “You come here a lot?” her eyebrows pulled together.   
  
“Only once a month, when I remember.” they started to walk back. “I swear I didn’t know you would be here.”

“I believe you. You had no idea where we were.” the walk felt awkward, but it wasn’t terrible. She had wanted to talk to him now, even if she hadn’t before.   
  
“I’m sorry for bringing Oliver to you.” he sounded sincere, and Laurel believed him.    
  
“I know you are, Tommy. It’s okay.”   
  
“No it’s not.” He wasn’t sure what else there was to say. Laurel wasn’t going to argue with Tommy about her forgiveness for the Oliver mess. She didn’t have the energy.   
  
“Thank you, Tommy, but I really need to get home. I’ll call you when I can.” she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, and he hugged her back. 

His arms squeezed gently around her, but he didn’t say anything. Soon Laurel returned to Barry’s car. It was cold so she wanted to get home as soon as possible. She wanted to sleep in her own bed and calm down from the rough few days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[Notes: We're back in Starling now, so the story will pick up a bit from here.]]


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[Warnings: Oliver Queen being an asshole.  
> Notes: Here we go the story starts to pick up from here.]]

No less than a week after the Lance siblings returned from their adventure, Oliver Queen stood in the crime lab of SCPD. He watched the clumsy CSI in front of him scrabble after the papers he had lost, he honestly couldn't remember very much about him. 

He didn’t pay attention to Barry back then, but he paid attention now. He could vaguely recall Laurel’s endearing comments about her adoptive brother’s ‘cute rambling’ as well as Sara’s intense protectiveness of the boy. Oliver hadn’t gotten away with so much as an off handed ‘nerd’ about Barry without earning himself a look from Sara.

She mentioned him a few times on the Gambit as well. (Oliver shook his head as if the action could dispel the thought.) That was just about the extent of his knowledge before he returned from the island.   
  
There were also faint glimpses of him working part time answering phones at his father's company, but he knew he couldn't have spoken to Barry more than a handful of times during that year. Even those instances were no more than common courtesies. It was Laurel’s other friends who were more interested in Barry than he was.   
  
Watching him now, Oliver could see both his sisters' views. At first glance, anyway. He wasn't strongly built, he was clumsy, and from what he’d heard, warm in personality. When you added in his difficult childhood, he was the kind of person people sometimes wanted to protect.    
  
He recalled Thea referring to Barry as a ‘cinnamon roll’ when he had asked about him. Whatever that meant, Oliver had no idea. He didn't come home to learn ‘weird slang’ from his younger sister. Barry also had not registered as a threat or a target to Oliver, but that was something he realized weeks ago. Though Oliver wasn’t sure if that was because he thought Barry Allen was pathetic or if there was something else nonthreatening about him.

Oliver knew better though, he could tell Barry Allen was much stronger than he looked. He didn’t seem like someone who needed to be handled like glass, despite what his sisters may tell you. He knew Barry’s mother had been murdered in front of him and that wasn't something you walked away from as happy as he had always heard Barry was.

Oliver knew that well. He cleared his throat, breaking the silence in the small room. “Mr. Allen,” he offered the greeting casually.

Barry glanced at him briefly before returning to his desk. He focused on some sort of program on the computer that Oliver was not familiar with. “Hello, Mr. Queen.”

Oliver scanned the room for a conversation opening. His eyes fell on a photo on the desk. The photo was taken outside with lots of natural lighting. In it were Barry and Iris, standing side by side, arms around one another. “Is that your friend Irene? No, wait, Ira?” Oliver asked, honestly having only half listened to what Laurel and Sara said about him.

Barry turned the photo face down. “Her name is  _ Iris _ .”

“Right, so, Barr, can I call you Barr?” Oliver's tone was open and friendly.

“No." he stayed focused on the computer, clicking a few things before he stood and began writing something down on his whiteboard.  
  
Oliver didn't pay too close attention to what Barry was writing down. He didn't care that much as it wasn't his focus. “I'm sure I'm the last person you want to talk to right now--”   
  
“What would give you that impression?” Barry kept his eyes on the board.   
  
It was only then that Oliver noticed Barry’s hands were trembling. “Do you want to yell at me?” he asked, his tone detached and airy.   
  
“N-no.” his voice cracked.   
  
“It seems like you do.”   
  
“I don't want to talk to you," he put a cap on the marker he was using and turned to face Oliver. "Screaming at you isn't going to unbreak Laurel's heart or bring Sara back,” Barry’s eyes started to water, and his voice was cracking. “and I don't want to throw you into your trauma in the middle of my office.”

_ Sara _ . Barry thought he had dealt with her death as much as he was able to, but every time Oliver showed up that hole in his chest throbbed. They buried an empty coffin, after all and here was evidence, Oliver Queen. The sole survivor of the wreck she was lost in. How much closure could he get?

Oliver was silent.

Something occurred to Barry then “Is that what you want?” Barry asked after a second. “Did … did you come here so I would punish you or something? Is that what all of this has been about?”

“You're the first person to say I have trauma,” Oliver cleared his throat. "You kinda threw me, but no. I’m here to talk to you about Thea." he was now certain he could use that in a pinch.

“Was I assuming?” Barry’s eyebrows pulled together. “You were a castaway for five years after you got lost at sea--”

Oliver shook his head. “People keep saying that I'm probably different, and they understand, but they don't.” he shifted his attention to a shelf of beakers. "They see how I can't sleep, or eat. Then they still try to throw me into all these new situations that I'm not ready for. Do you know what that's like?" Oliver was certain if he could make himself appear small enough to Barry, he may be able to shift that moral compass in his favor.

Barry shrugged his shoulders. “People don't just go through hell and come back completely adjusted,” he crossed his arms. “This doesn't mean I want to talk to you, by the way-- also don't touch those,” he added abruptly. "I do understand a little though. When my mom died they sent me here and no one cared what I wanted." He wondered why Oliver was being so honest with him. Though he did assume that Oliver didn’t know anyone else like him. Which made Oliver feel the need to be honest with him. "That's just how some people are with trauma and it sucks."

“Sure,” he stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I'll be fine."

“Feel free to tell yourself that,” Barry returned to the computer. “I recommend seeing someone, unless you're like me and you can't tell people the truth about what happened to you.”

“I killed your sister, and you're giving me life advice?” Oliver’s eyebrows knitted together and he came to stand beside him again.

“You didn't kill my sister,” Barry stopped and stared at Oliver. He was  honestly surprised the man had that sort of introspection. Barry made his way back to the board again and started to write, seeming intensely focused. He started to scribble something out. Oliver picked something up about blood spatter and that's it. 

“Do we need to talk about this?” Barry tried to keep himself composed. He would not lose his cool over Oliver Queen. He refused. “You mentioned Thea?”

"I guess we don’t.” he clasped his hands together. “Thea talked about you when I came back.” Barry felt himself begin to calm slightly. Breathing became easier. He only gave Oliver a hum to let him know he was listening.  
  
Oliver sat on the edge of Barry’s desk, ignoring the daggers that here glared into him when he did. “She told me about mine and my father’s funeral.”   


Barry remembered that day clearly. _   
_

_ Thea was twelve. She stood alone, long after her mother had made her rounds to talk to _ other mourners.  _ Barry had slowly crossed the way to stand beside her. He gently placed his blazer over her tiny shoulders. “It’s cold, huh?” _

_ It swamped the child in black fabric. “Why are you here?” she looked up at him. _ __   
__   
__ Barry slowly fell to one knee. “I thought you could use a buddy. Can I stand here with you for a little bit?”  
__   
_ Thea had nodded solemnly. When he thought about it, he had felt that it might have been that the realisation crashing down on her was far too heavy for her young mind to process. He felt a similar way when he was younger. A numbness that slowly boiled up into anger to feel in some sort of control. “Mom says that you hate us.” she spoke softly after several seconds. _ __   
_   
_ __ Barry and Thea were hardly strangers, but they weren’t exactly friends either. He knew he interests from all the times they’d been shoved together for events, but other than that Thea wasn’t interested in talking to Barry. He was a ‘nerd’. Barry had always tried to look out for her though. “When you were eight, you pulled Laurel and I up to your room and absolutely covered both of our faces in play make-up. Does that sound like someone who hates you?”

_ Barry wasn’t so far gone that he would ever dream of taking it out on Thea. Sure, it was hard. She would remind him of Oliver and by extension Sara. He wouldn’t hurt Thea though. He couldn’t be angry at her. Especially not as he looked at her, standing alone at the graves of not only her brother, but her father as well. _ __   
__   
_ The force that had pulled him over to her had been the memories of his mother’s funeral. How everyone pitied him, and didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want anyone to say anything to him really, he just wanted something to give him hope that the world hadn’t ended. He didn’t know what Thea needed in that moment, but he was determined to be what he needed when he was younger. To be there if she asked for something. _ __   
__   
_ So he stood with her. Until it was time for the reception back at the Queen's house. Barry couldn’t go inside, not even for Thea. So he patted her on the shoulder. “I know this feels like the end of everything good, but I promise it’s not. You might not know what that means yet, but I hope you will someday.” Thea was a kid, she shouldn’t have had to carry something like that. But the world was cruel. _ __   


Back in the present Barry blinked a few times. “What about the funeral?” he had been distracted thinking about the small girl at the grave, and once again trying to match her with the girl handcuffed to a desk downstairs just a year ago.   
  
“She mentioned you’d been good to her.” Oliver wasn’t lying, but he was attempting to get leverage.   
  
Barry huffed, and rolled his eyes. “Please don’t tell me you bothered me at work to thank you for not taking stuff out on Thea that had nothing to do with her?” He twitched a bit internally.   
  
“No, I wanted to thank you for going out of your way to be good to my sister. Despite our bad blood, despite her terrible attitude.”   
  
Barry glared. “You were just saying that no one understands you. Now you’re crapping on Thea? She lost her father, and her brother--” he cut himself off, refusing to humor Oliver further. “Can you just leave already? If that’s all you had to say, I have work to do.”    
  
“You’re the one talking to me.” Oliver pointed out.  
  
Anyone else would have thought Oliver was fooling around. Playing some sort of mind game. Barry thought knew better though. To Barry Oliver was nothing more than a self-absorbed clown. "Please leave. I'm trying to be the bigger person. I just-- I understand you might be feeling some remorse, some sense of responsibility for your actions and I’m sure that this is all new to you. What I don’t understand is why you think the answer is to harass us." though Barry certainly was talking more than Oliver at this point. He had a lot to say, a lot he’d bottled up. He’d pictured this moment a million times in his head since he first saw him in Laurel’s firm. “We do not want you around, Oliver. Why can’t you accept that?”   
  
It had been brewing, but he decided a long time ago that it didn’t matter. He wanted to explode on Oliver, he wanted to tell him how much he'd aided in tearing their family apart. He wanted to yell. He felt contempt for Oliver Queen. However, things changed when he saw Oliver in person. 

He still hated him, but how locked up Oliver was, it made him hesitate. It made him want to help. Even when he knew he didn't really. It was wreaking havoc on his moral compass: Oliver’s plan. "Please leave. I'm tired, Oliver. I don't know what you want, but all you're doing is making our lives harder by coming around all the time. I don’t know what you want from us." Barry didn’t want this. He tried to be nice, he tried to not lash out at Oliver. What good would that do? 

If he sent Oliver back to the island for a few moments-- that wouldn’t bring Sara back. Nothing would.”You’re the one giving me mixed signals. Can we talk or no?”

Barry set his jaw and felt a tension inside him. He hated this. Oliver wasn’t wrong but fighting his nature was hard. “I don’t want-- Please leave. You keep distracting me. That’s not my fault.” it kind of was, but Barry wanted Oliver out.

“What the  _ hell _ are you doing, Oliver?” The sound of boots clicking across the crime lab floor got their attention before the voice did.

“You should leave.” Barry’s tone was firm.

“You've got some gall to show up here and harass my brother,” Laurel planted herself firmly between the two men, staring Oliver down. She got that look in her eye that Oliver remembered from their youth. He knew he shouldn't push. "He already made it clear that he doesn't want you around."

“Thank you for seeing me, Mr Allen,” Oliver spoke calmly.

“I don't know if I would call this,  _ seeing you _ but okay,” he watched Oliver leave.

“What did he want?” Laurel uncrossing her arms as placed a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine.”

“He killed her and he keeps parading around here like we’re supposed to welcome him with open arms.”

“No he didn't,” Barry shook his head and returned to his desk.

“What are you saying?” Laurel demanded. “Are you taking his side?”

“There are no  _ sides _ , Laurel,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “Well … there are I just … not surrounding her death.”

“So, what? You think Oliver is innocent?” she threw her hands up.

“Oliver Queen isn't innocent,” Barry said firmly. “I've never called him innocent but … he didn't kill Sara. I refuse to call someone a killer who isn't. This doesn't mean that I forgive him.”

“He murdered Sara--”

“No he didn't.” Barry sighed and dropped his face into his hands. “Why did he have to come in here and drag all this up?” he whispered, things were starting to settle. Wounds were starting to at least scab over. They were bleeding again, because Oliver had to shove his nose in everything.

“He's manipulating you, Barr,” Laurel placed her hands on his shoulders and kissed the top of his head. “That's what he does, it's going to be okay.”

“He didn't do anything to me.”

“He took our sister away.”

Barry sniffed and wiped his face. “I think about Sara every single day, you know that.” he sat up straighter. “I hate Oliver, for what he did to you and her, but I need you to understand that I won't call him a killer. I  _ can't _ not after watching my father rot in prison for the last decade. We finally got to a place where we were able to start to be at peace. Don’t let him take that.”

“You're right I'm sorry. Him being here and harassing us is just really messing with my head." She was a mess since they got back, even if he time away had helped some. "He just--" she closed her eyes. "He tried to apologise to me when he showed up at 

work."

Barry shook his head. "Don't apologise. Everything is a mess right now and we have to stick together. Let's do dinner tonight, okay?"

Barry rubbed his face and printed out the results shown on his screen. He gathered them up with the rest of his forensic notes before heading down the stairs. He only made it halfway to the captains office when Lance stopped him.   
  
“What happened to you this time?” Quentin blocked his path in the hall, holding up a cautionary hand.   
  
“Oliver Queen,” Barry wiped his eyes again. This wasn't the first time he had been caught crying at work and he didn't  want the other officers to notice as well. Sometimes the guys picked on him for being ‘soft’ as they put it. “I'm fine, sir.”   
  
“Hang on there, Barry. Queen was here?” he stopped Barry with a hand around his arm. “What the hell did he want?”

“No idea,” Barry lied poorly.

“Barry, what did he want?”

“I don’t know, I think he expected me to punish him or something … it was weird. He kept pushing me. It was terrible and uncomfortable and I want to forget it.” Barry wasn’t sure why he was telling Lance this. Maybe under all his resentment part of him wondered how their family was before Barry became a threat in Lance’s eyes.

“If he bothers you again just call me,” said Lance as he let Barry go. Barry was annoyed with the development. Lance pretending to care wasn’t anything new. He tried to move on as soon as possible.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry gets an unexpected phone call and makes a moderately reluctant house call to Queen Manor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[Warnings: None.  
> Notes: This is going to be the last chapter for a while I think, sorry. I'm doing fics for [Barry Allen Week](https://barryallenweek.tumblr.com/), [Snowbarry Week](https://simplysnowbarry.tumblr.com/day/2019/09/01/), [Nate New Yearwood](https://nate-new-yearwood.tumblr.com/) and a sever exchange from now until Jan (: 
> 
> Thanks for keeping up with this story! Take care (:]]

Barry thought that he was through with Oliver Queen. Even Tommy thought Oliver would stop being so intrusive. He’d been talking to Tommy a lot more these days, while he planned his trip to Central City. Tommy was great with travel surprisingly. He mostly bounced ideas off of him and compared airlines. Tommy had flown them all at least once while in a pinch.  
  
He was filled with rage when he entered the lab to see Oliver Queen standing there. To make matters worse, he was looking at the board about his father’s case. “Don’t touch that.” his voice sharp as a whip. “Why are you snooping in my stuff, Oliver?”  
  
Oliver shrugged. “It’s an interesting case, and it was sitting there.”  
  
“I’m glad you find it _interesting_. I love my family’s tragedy is so fascinating to you.” he pulled the map of Starling down over the board. “I’ve asked you nicely to stop showing up here, and my sister not so nicely.”  
  
Oliver put his hands up. “Look, I’m here on business.” Oliver paused when Barry gave him a look. "I swear! I need a CSI.”  
  
“Great. Can I put you in contact with Harold Lee? Or maybe the head of the department?” he crossed his arms firmly over his chest. He thought he was done with this.

“It has to be you.” Oliver replied seriously. “I can’t trust anyone else, and it’s for Thea, not me.” he explained, crossing his arms. “I know about you using your badge for less than official reasons. I’m asking for Thea.” he pressed, putting emphasis on Thea, something he knew could make Barry agree. Thea had told him that recently. “She’s in trouble.”  
  
Barry’s expression softened slightly. “What’s going on with Thea? What kind of trouble is she in?” he knew he was letting his guard down, but if Thea needed something he had to at least hear him out. He always told himself he would help Thea if she needed it.  
  
Oliver produced a small plastic bag with a few pills inside. “I found a bunch of these in my sister’s bag. They have no identifiable marks so they’re not something I could research. This is a street drug.”

Barry grabbed a pair of gloves from his desk and carefully pulled them on. “Give me your number.”

“What?”  
  
“This isn’t a TV show, Oliver. I can’t just throw this into a computer and have it analyzed in thirty seconds. Even if I prioritize this over my other cases it’ll take a week or more.” he explained, carefully removing the pill from the bag and beginning to prepare it for testing.

“On T.V. they just put it in and press a button.” Oliver replied his tone a bit dumbfounded.  
  
Barry snorted. “I _wish_ . That would make my job way easier.”  
  
Oliver left Barry his contact information, and Barry sincerely hoped that it would be the last he heard from him until the test results came in.

  
Later, he ended up at home on the phone with Iris. “He just showed up to your work, again?” Iris demanded. “Can’t you get a restraining order or something?”  
  
Barry shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. I mean …” he rubbed his face. He couldn’t explain. He plugged in his air popper machine and moved to set up some butter on the stove. He made his way into the other room to avoid the noise. “I want to help Thea.”

“Barr, she’s not your responsibility.”  
  
He knew she was right. He knew that. It didn’t stop him from feeling like he had to do something. His whole life he wanted to help people. He was useless most of the time, but if he could help a one girl with a drug problem, he was going to do it. “If I don’t help her, who is going to?”

“I can see that this conversation isn’t going to go anywhere.” Iris’s eye roll was nearly audible. Barry could hear Iris moving around in her own kitchen as she spoke. “Anyway, when am I going to see you again?”  
  
Barry cracked a small smile. “Soon, I promise! I’m talking travel stuff with Tommy.”  
  
“Laurel’s boyfriend? I didn’t know you two were buddy-buddy.” her tone was more teasing than accusing, and Barry knew that.  
  
Barry went back into the kitchen and unplugged the popcorn machine. When that was done he poured the now melted butter over his fresh popcorn. He then moved to the cabinet and began to search for the salt. “We’ve always been friends. Kind of. I don’t know, he was always nice to me compared to Oliver.”  
  
Iris was silent for a few seconds. Barry didn’t comment on it, he just assumed she was doing something. “I’ve been thinking about this whole situation, and I really don’t know what to say. I don’t think anything I could come up with would be enough. But I love you and I want you to be okay.”

Barry’s eyebrows pulled together. “What? You don’t need to say anything to me.” he pinned his phone between his ear and his shoulder before he carried his coffee pot and popcorn into his bedroom. Setting his haul on the nightstand. “You’ve never needed to say anything. Just hearing your voice helps. You’re more than enough Iris. I thought you knew that.”  
  
“Barry Allen, you are my soulmate.” she laughed softly. “God, please get your butt to Central City. I need to hug you.”

“I miss you so much. Trust me, I’m working on it.” he chuckled softly. “Iris West, have I ever told you that you’re the best thing that ever happened to me?”  
  
Iris laughed softly as well. “You have, but it’s nice to hear. So, you picked another terrible Rom-com?”  
  
Barry rolled his eyes. “Well, when it’s your turn to pick we can do an action movie. I just knew I was going to be top tired to follow anything too fast paced.” he replied, rolling his eyes.  
  
The movie went on, and Barry did find it a bit distasteful. He joined Iris in being disappointed by their choice for movie night. He wondered what Iris would pick next week, and hoped it would be better than the one he picked.

* * *

As time went on, it quickly became obvious that he wouldn’t be free of Oliver Queen. No matter how much Barry had hoped for this.  
  
“I need it to be discreet. Someone moved around a bunch of paintings in my house.” he looked Barry in the eye when he spoke, and easily got Barry to believe him, but taking him seriously was another battle.  
  
Barry rolled his eyes. “Oliver, I’m not coming all the way out to Queen manor as a favour just so I can deal with what is obviously a petty prank.”

“Someone broke into my home, where my sister and my mother sleep,” Oliver began, laying it on as thick as he felt would reach Barry. “and they were there long enough to move dozens of paintings, including the ones in the master bedroom. They got past a lot of security. You know Thea is mixed up in stuff-- I’m just worried this is a threat.”  
  
Barry gave in, thinking of Thea mainly. Not for Oliver. He sighed heavily, silent for a moment. “Fine, I’ll come by after work.”  
  
When Oliver was gone Barry’s desk phone began to ring. “Forensics Lab, this is Barry Allen.”

“Hi, Barry” said a woman’s voice. “Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have called through this line, but I heard through the grapevine that you were a CSI now. Couldn’t find you and Laurel on Facebook.”

“Uh, that’s fine. May I ask who’s calling?” Barry’s eyebrows pulled together.

“Oh, right. Should have opened with that. This is Camille Laurance. We went to school together.” the voice on the other line introduced herself.

Barry blinked. "Oh, Camille." he nodded firmly. "I remember you. Is there something I can do for you?"

Camille paused for a moment. "I just wanted to reach out. Do you and Laurel have personal numbers I could reach you at?" the question seemed innocent enough, of course. Barry didn't see anything wrong with it on the surface.

"Yeah, if you leave me your number I'll have Laurel reach out." he rubbed the back of his neck a bit awkwardly. "I'm in the middle of a few messy cases. Also when you get transferred I can't see your number."

Camille hummed. "Oh, right. CSIs never rest in Starling. Yeah, you can reach me at 253-xxx-xxxx." --as she spoke Barry scrambled for a pen and took down the number on a stack of pink post-it notes on his desk.

"Uh-huh." He nodded. "I got that. Thank you, I'll be in touch." he sighed and said his goodbye before hanging up the phone. Camille hadn't been as close to them as Chelsea had, so he was surprised to hear from her. He hoped she wasn't just trying to get drama. He snapped a quick photo of the note and sent it to Laurel.

 **Barry:** _Camille reached out to me. She wants to talk to both of us. Up to you if you want to call her._

To his surprise, he got a reply right away.

 **Laurel:** _Weird. Wasn't it always Chelsea who you guys hung out with the most?_

 **Barry:** _Yeah. I don't know Camille super well, Sara did though. Anyway, I'm knee deep in work here. Talk soon._

He didn't tell her about helping Oliver. He didn't want to deal with her reaction to that yet. Yes they had agreed to not keeping secrets, but he was sure Laurel didn't want to know this.

* * *

Much later, after Barry had gotten off of work, Oliver unlocked the front door with a key from his pocket. "Thanks for driving, Barry. I've been dodging my driver. Mom hired an ex-marine or whatever to ride my ass." he slide through the door. He assumed he was pulling off his detached attitude pretty well, and Barry hadn't showed a reaction other than a slight change in his features, clearly avoiding an annoyed look.

"It's not a problem." Barry repressed an eyeroll. Of course he had a driver. He remembered Laurel talking about it when they were dating, but he'd never heard Oliver bring up a driver so casually.

"Mr. Diggle said you'd slipped away again. I guess I should thank you for coming straight home this time." Moria's voice came from above them. She stared down at them, addressed in an off-white dress with large sleeves. Her hair perfectly sculpted in a a way that Barry likened to _Emily Gilmore_ , whom he knew from watching _Gilmore Girls_ with his sisters years ago.

Barry wondered if she was going out, as the dress seemed far too nice to be wearing around the house. Though he couldn't say he would put it past a Queens. 

Oliver smiled warmly at his mother. "Yes, I was consulting a friend to help us look a bit further into our painting issue." his tone was light, and unhindered. Like he was talking about the weather and not a very serious break in.

Moira sighed, making her way down the steps, her dress had a very small trail, and Barry was now certain it wasn't for lounging around the house. "Oliver, could you please at least try to leave one of Quinton's kids alone? He already hates us."

Oliver huffed. "Mom, I'm not involved with _Barry_."

Moira sighed, annoyed at the situation. Whenever a Lance was in her house for any reason, it didn't end well. "You know what I meant, Oliver."

"Uh, I'm here for work, Mrs. Queen." Barry quickly pulled out his badge to show her.

Moira made her way down the stairs. She came to stand in front of him. “I know, dear. Look at you, I swear you were a baby last time I saw you.” she patted his cheek.

“I was eighteen, ma’am.” Barry glanced up at Oliver. “You mentioned paintings?”

“I always thought you were younger. You had to be fifteen when you worked at Roberts company.” she thought for a moment.  
  
“I was seventeen, Mrs. Queen.”

Barry was shown upstairs by Oliver. Moria had confirmed that she was indeed leaving. So it was just the two men left in the house. The investigation started right away, the CSI didn’t want to spend more time in the manor than necessary. Oliver insisted they start upstairs.  
  
So Barry inspected the fifty or so paintings that covered the upper hallways. “Do you have a list of the paintings and their original locations?”  
  
Oliver thought for a moment. “Mom has an inventory for insurance purposes.”  
  
“Could you get it?” Barry asked not giving Oliver any pleasantries, as he continued to look at the paintings for anything that could be useful. Before he checked the framed for prints, which even then could have been anyone.  
  
When Oliver returned with the paperwork he glanced at it. “First painting on the list is Gardens of May by _Seracrus_ .” he made his way through the house until he found where it was meant to be. He glanced at the paining. “Does this look right to you?”  
  
Oliver shrugged. “Art is art, Barry. How would I know? Thea is the art buff not me.”  
  
Barry googled the painting in question, hoping to find a picture. “Where is Thea?”

“At school.”  
  
Barry nodded and the google search finally loaded. “Okay, this one hasn’t been moved. He went to the next painting on the list. “Okay, this one is definitely in the wrong place.” Barry carefully investigated about half of the paintings before Thea returned home from school.  
  
To Barry’s surprise, Thea was eager to assist in the cataloging. It amazed Barry how much she really knew about art. She identified the next handful of paintings for Barry, indicating that so far, all paintings besides the first had been moved.  
  
They blew through more than half of the list, and things really moved along with Thea on their team. It was about five in the evening when the Moira and Walter returned home they were surprised to see Barry still there. However, they insisted he stay for dinner and have a drink. Moira was very aware that Barry wasn’t there on ordinary business. He didn’t even have his badge on him.  
  
They sat awkwardly in the living room with their drinks. “So, Barry,” Moira began. “How are things? You graduated, I assume?”  
  
Barry nodded. “Yes, I’ve been working full time at SCPD for about a year and a half now.” he fiddled with his hands in his lap before glancing up at a painting in the room. It was on the mantil, and it was stunning. He knew it well.  
  
It was always Sara’s favourite. She loved it so much that Moira had once joked about leaving it to Sara in her will. Or at least-- they assumed Moira was joking. It was a fairy dancing in front of a large flowing river. The fairy wore an outfit made of leaves and vines. Her long golden hair flowed out from behind a wooden mask. The painting was also unique in style, you could see most of the brush strokes and most of the edges were blurred, putting focus on the fairy.

It seemed a bit odd compared to most of the Queen’s paintings which were usually just landscapes and architecture. It stood out. But it appeared to also be in the correct place. “Barry?” Oliver nudged his arm. “Dinner is ready.”  
  
“Sorry.” Barry shook his head and stood. “I was thinking about that painting.”  
  
Oliver smiled a little. “Yeah, I thought you were.”  
  
Dinner went over as normal. Despite the awkward tension, Thea continued to talk about the paintings, but she seemed tired. Barry could really tell something was off. She seemed like her usually snarky self but muted.

As they continued down the list after dinner. He could tell Thea was getting tired. “I don’t know why Ollie is so invested in this stupid prank.”  
  
Oliver had left them alone for the moment. His mother had called him away. “I think your brother just wants to make sure it's not anything malicious.” Barry couldn’t quite comprehend that he’d been in a situation where he had to defend Oliver Queen. “I would think the same if it were me.” But here he was.

Thea rolled her eyes in response. “I got along just fine without him for five years.”  
  
“The next one I have to check is in your room. Is that okay?” Bary asked as the rest of the Queens, including Walter returned. Barry and Walter met briefly, but hadn’t known each other prior to this.

Thea sighed. “Sure, why not. As long as you’re not a creepy panty sniffer.”

" _Thea_ ." Moira chided.  
  
Barry could tell she was joking, but he was still a bit put off by her attitude. He never got less polite, but it always put him off when people had to mock him for it. He tried not to be too hard on Thea though. He proceeded to her room which was on the opposite side of the house from where they stood. “This place is huge.”  
  
Thea snorted. “You’re _still_ surprised, huh?”  
  
“What do you mean?” Barry’s eyebrows pulled together.  
  
“Oh, come on. You don’t remember?” Thea’s tone was so clear that Barry could practically hear her smirking.

“What am I supposed to remember?” Barry wracked his brain for anything that she could possibly be referring to. However, he couldn’t think of anything at all.  
  
“At one of my mom’s Christmas parties, you were thirteen and I was seven,” she began. “You got lost on your way back from the bathroom. You got so overwhelmed you started crying and I had to pull you back to the party.”

“Oh,” Barry felt a bit embarrassed. “I remember that now.”

Thea turned a corner and ducked into a room. She shuffled around in the room for a few seconds before letting Barry in. He didn’t want to assume she was hiding things, but the circumstances certainly made that a possibility.  
  
When he was let in he took notes on the painting as well as it’s location. He could refer to the notes later and see if there was anything strange about it. Thea left the room soon after letting Barry in, becoming rather bored with the whole process. “Hands off my panty drawer, Allen.” she glared at him as she exited.

Barry checked that she had disappeared into another part of the house before he checked behind the painting. He considered searching elsewhere. He could check the back of her closet and her floorboards. He thought about it. Considered it for a few minutes. He was looking through her room in the first place because Thea was involved with this stuff.  
  
He moved to check under her pillows, sliding a gloved hand underneath. Something hard met his hand. He pulled it out, squinting at it. It was an abnormally large arrowhead with an inscription on it. It appeared to be some sort of Kana or Kanji to him. Barry stopped. He wasn’t there to do this.  
  
This wasn’t what Oliver asked him. Now he was rifling through Thea’s personal things. He thought back to Quintin dumping out his drawers when he was a kid. “I can’t do this.” he sighed and carefully replaced the object and began inspecting what he’d come in for: the painting.

He pulled the painting down and inspected the back of it. It was clean, but it also hadn’t been moved. Which they already knew, but that also meant that hopefully the intruder hadn't gone in Thea’s room. He returned to Oliver about fifteen minutes later. “I cataloged everything and I’ll start looking for clues tonight.”  
  
“Alright, thank you.” Oliver’s smile seemed genuine as he extended a hand for Barry to shake.  
  
Barry stared at it for a few seconds. He had two choices, he could be the bigger man, shake Oliver’s hand and leave. HIs other choice was to just walk out. He looked at Oliver’s hand, then back up at his face, before turning and leaving. He didn’t owe Oliver anything, he’d come for Thea and Moira, no other reason.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[Warnings: some sex talk, Iris being the straight friendTM, trying to be more relaxed with my writing and writing what I want.  
> Notes: guess who's back with too many projects and no self-control? 😏 Thanks for sticking with me! Also Leo is Leo from Veronica Mars but I don't think he'll reappear too much]]

The next movie night Barry had with Iris was an actual godsend. He couldn’t even put into words how much he missed her. He also needed to destress after his week with Oliver. As he was leaving his lab, one of the computers dinged. It was the computer that was handling Thea’s drugs. He sauntered over and clicked a few things. He snapped a photo of the results.  
  
 **Barry: [Photo of results]** _Here you go. Basically it’s a powerful hallucinogen, but it also has some other stuff in it. Like, to put it in terms you would understand: Speed.So it’s kinda like a really strong speed that’ll also cause some hallucinations. Think Angel Dust with speed. It can definitely kill you. Try to imagine being awake for 24 hours seeing all sorts of colours or feeling things that aren’t there. I hope you can get Thea the help she needs. She’s a good kid._

He decided to ignore any reply he got from Oliver for now, and instead reach out to Iris.

**Barry:** _I’m excited to watch Captain America with you tonight!_

**Iris:** _Me too!!! Chris Evans is a whole ass snack._

**Barry:** _By the way, how about I come visit for your birthday? June sounds good right?_  


**Iris:** _June is PERFECT!!!!!! Oh my god I can’t wait to see you._

**Barry:** _Perfect. As soon as the new year hits I’ll be sure request off. Or maybe we can get you out to Cali? I’ve got a friend with a house down there I’m sure she’d lend it to me again._

**Iris:** _Don’t you want to see my dad?_

**Barry:** _You know I do! I just thought it’d be nice to treat you to a private-ish beach on your birthday._  


**Iris:** _Did you say private beach?_  
  
Barry laughed softly before shooting her a ‘driving’. When he arrived home he sent her a ‘call when you’re ready’ text. He shoved his phone in his pocket. He started to set up the kitchen so he could cook dinner. He pulled out a cutting board and turned on the radio.  
  
He couldn’t wait to call Iris. He was in the middle of “ _I’ve been trying to do it right. I’ve been living a lonely life--_ ” when his phone started to ring. He felt good for the first time in a while. He was looking forward to talking to Iris, it was all he could think about. He hit the answer button and put Iris on speaker.  
  
“Is that the radio I hear, Barry Allen?” Iris’s tone was surprised as it echoched into the kitchen.

  
Barry grinned as he belt out “ _ I don’t think you’re right for him. Think of what if might have been-- _ ”   
  
Iris laughed. “It’s good to hear you so happy. What are you making?”   
  
Barry cut up a few more carrots and added them to the pan as well as some spinach. “I’m just doing some chicken and veggies.”   
  
“I just got take out.” was the response he got.   
  
Barry scrunched up his nose as Taylor Swift’s new song  _ We Are Never Getting Back Together _ came on. He reached over and turned on another pop channel (Starling had a lot of them) and hoped for the best.   
  
“Wow, no T-swifty?” Iris’s tone was teasing. “I thought she was your wifey?”

Barry scrunched up his face again. “Ugh,” he rolled his eyes. “I say a few of her songs would be great for a musical and you decide I’m married to her.”   
  
Iris shrugged. “I don’t know. Unless there’s  _ someone else _ you like I’m going to have to declare you married to Taylor.”

The way Iris said ‘unless there’s someone else’ made Barry stop. She said it with her knowing tone; the one she usually got when discussing cases. He frowned. “The only people I talk to are you and Laurel, Iris.”

Iris started to speak but then she stopped herself. Barry hated when she did that. He glared at the stove. “After this week with Oliver, please just say what you’re thinking.”

“Wait, what happened with Oliver?” Iris was thrown from her original train of thought.   
  
Barry grabbed the chicken he’d had marinating and put it into the pan on the stove. “What hasn’t happened with Oliver? I tell him over and over that like, I don’t want to be friends but he has no boundaries. So he comes into my work, right? Then he asks me to figure out what’s in drugs he found in his sister’s bag and you know … you know Thea is a weak point for me.” he sighed heavily and walked away to see if he had a bottle of wine in the cabinet.   
  
“So, you did it?”   
  
Barry hesitated for a second. “Yeah, I did. Then he asked me to look into a prank someone pulled. His sister has been messing around with drugs; so I did, and I just texted him the results of the drug analysis today. I’m hoping he doesn’t contact me again, I think he’s started to notice that I’ve got a soft spot for Thea.”

Iris heaved a sigh. “Of course you did. Just, don’t let him use you.”   
  
“I know Oliver Queen, Iris. Don’t worry about me.”   
  
“I’m always going to worry about you, Barr. That’s part of the deal.” she blew a raspberry into the phone, earning a snort from Barry.

He found a bottle of wine in the cabinet and got a glass from the cupboard above the sink. “Iris West, you are the love of my life.”

Barry could practically hear her eye roll. “Good luck finding a guy who accepts being number two.” Iris stopped and she heard something shatter against the floor. “Barry I--”

“What?” Barry blinked. “How--” he fell to his knees and started to pick up the larger pieces of the glass.   
  
“I didn’t mean to bring it up right now, I’m sorry. This is the wrong time.” Barry could hear the remorse in her voice.   
  
Barry went silent for a moment, trying to figure out how Iris came to the conclusion. He never really talked about girls, but Iris knew better than that. She wouldn’t assume he was gay based on that. “Did Laurel tell you?”

“N-no.” she stammered slightly. “I didn’t know she knew? Laurel knew?”

“I only just told her. I was going to tell you--” he didn’t think he would be having this conversation. “How did you know? I don’t really talk about girls--”

“You didn’t have to tell me, I could hear it.”   
  
“What?”

“The way you talk about Danny, and how you talked about Tommy when we were kids, and Ray. The way you wouldn’t talk about girls with me? It was obvious to me. I kept thinking you would say it to me, because I know it can be hard. You never said anything though.”   
  
“I would have told you.”

“I know, Barry. I’m not mad at you, how could I be? You live in Starling City. It’s not exactly the gay capital of the US, but  I love you. Always.”   
  
Barry smiled. “I know.”   
  
“Now, if we’re done making dinner, we are due to lust over Captain America.”

“Actually, I’m more into Sebastian Stan.” He wiped his eyes.

“Ooh, a Bucky fan?”   
  
“I mean, I love Steve Rogers but Sebastian Stan. I’m sorry but that man…”

“Wow, Barry, I didn’t realise that this was a x rated call.”   
  
Barry rolled his eyes. “Last time a Captain America movie came out you told me you wanted to ride Steve’s face.”

“Take out the ‘ed. I still want to ride his face. "Though, I thought it would take a while to get your type out of you. But I’m getting the feeling that you like em just a bit older and strongly built. You're a total arm man.”

Barry inhaled his wine, coughing up a decent amount onto his SCPD sweatshirt, some just driveling out of his mouth to stain the lettering. “First of all--”

Iris rolled her eyes. “You told me a million times that Ray works out and you always talk about the girl’s brother the firefighter. Now you’re telling me you wanna hop on Sebastian Stan.”   
  
“You’re putting words in my mouth! I don’t want to hop on him. More importantly, why are you assuming I'm a bottom?"

"Is there something wrong with bottoms?" It Is challenged.

Barry shook his head. “No, but I still don’t appreciate the assumption.”

“So, are you a top, then?”   
  
Barry shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know.”   
  
Iris laughed. “Isn’t like, gay 101 knowing that?”

“No.” Barry seemed to be closing off, he didn’t know how to have this conversation with Iris. "At least, I don't think so?"   
  
“I was just teasing,” said Iris, trying to save face. “You can talk about it if you want to, but no pressure.”

“I don’t really want to talk about guys anymore.” he said softly.   
  
Iris seemed to nod on the other end. “That’s okay. I’m sorry I made jokes about you being a bottom.”   
  
“It’s okay, ready to watch the movie?”   
  
“Yeah!” She replied and they both started their movie.

* * *

Barry came into work the next day to a lot commotion. It seemed the mysterious vigilante had appeared again. Barry had heard whispers of it, but had pushed them to the side. The arrow had killed people. Barry frowned, looking at the report. “Barry.” Quintin got his attention.   
  
Barry looked away from the sketch. “Yes, sir?”   
  
“You ready to work on your first unique murder case?” he knew Barry mainly worked on shootings. Which Barry wasn’t a fan of, due to the tedious nature and the sheer amount of them in the city.   
  
Barry went, though it wasn’t as if he had a choice, even if he was opposed to the idea. “So, who exactly is this guy?” he asked as he began to catalog the body and surrounding area. The body was of a man. Barry recognized him as one of the more famous businessmen in Starling. Though he couldn’t say he knew more than a name.   
  
“What can you tell us about the body?” Quintin asked.   
  
Barry glanced at the body again. “Well, I’m going to assume the cause of death was the arrow to his chest.”

“Anything useful?”

Barry shrugged. “There isn’t much here. There’s a shoe print, size nine.” he pulled on a glove and used tweezers to pull a piece of glass from the shoe print, putting it in an evidence bag. “I’ll tell you if I find anything else.”

There wasn’t much else, but Barry became fixated on this Arrow character. People made him out to be like the Batman of Starling.   
  
Until the rumours started.

His cryptid forms began to overflow with accounts this vigilante being able to shoot thirty-six arrows in a minute. The fastest recorded is  _ ten _ . This was when the Hood caught Barry’s attention. He began to dive in deep. He pulled up everything he could, even as far as trudging up evidence from cases he wasn’t on. Keeping photographs in his desk.   
  
In Barry’s research he learned that there were other reports of him being inhuman. He hoped that there was some degree of truth to this. He, however, tried not to admit that he was getting his hopes up. As Barry was clocking out (he got off early on Wednesdays, and went to being on call) there was a bit of a commotion in the precinct.   
  
He turned his head to Leo. “Hey, what’s going on?” he asked the beat cop who slouched back in his desk chair.   
  
He tapped his pen against his lip. “Uh, that hooded vigilante rescued that dead guy and his friend from armed kidnappers. Killed all of them in cold blood.” Leo hadn’t been in Starling very long. He’d moved from somewhere down south, he’d told Barry once so he felt bad for not being able to remember. Not that it was relevant in the moment.   
  
_ Tommy _ . “Are they okay?”   
  
Leo shrugged. “Lance literally  _ just _ walked out the door to take their state--.” Barry was running out the door, holding his CSI kit against him. “--ments.”   


Barry caught up to Lance. “Detective Lance, sir. I would like to assist on the Merlyn and Queen case.”

Lance’s eyebrows pulled together. “Why?”

“I found something, about the vigilante. I want this case to add to my profile.” Barry explained, which wasn’t exactly a lie. Lance knew Barry was interested in the vigilante, but he hadn’t yet caught on to how personal it was. With Barry’s strong moral compass it was easy, even with his history to assume that he wanted the guy caught as much as anyone else on that team.   
  
Lance allowed him on the case. On the terms that he ‘behave himself’. Barry resented that, but didn’t comment. They next thing he knew they were in the Queen’s living room. Tommy was nursing a busted lip and Oliver was moderately unharmed.   
  
He listened to the story and even he found himself confused. Did the hood have some sort of understanding that Oliver was not his father? Because he seemed to go after people like Merlyn and Queen. He was curious to learn that there was a side to the arrow who did indeed have restraint. It was fascinating to him. He wondered if he could have caught is mother’s killer as well.   
  
Lance became increasingly frustrated. All he seemed to be getting was that neither of them remembered what happened and they couldn’t see much. When Lance left, Barry stayed behind to talk to Oliver and Tommy. “This case didn’t need a CSI … Aw,” said Oliver in a teasing tone. “Worried about me?”   
  
Oliver was really getting under Barry’s skin. He wasn’t like this before the island. He didn’t really make fun of Barry like this, he usually ignored his existence. Barry wondered inwardly if it was just him desperately clinging to his old self. Which Barry supposed he could respect in this case. He still didn’t like it though.

He ignored him and came to sit next to Tommy. “How are you feeling?” Barry knew Tommy, they had a sort of mutual respect. Even if Tommy teased him sometimes he still managed to feel like there was some respect there.   
  
“Like hell, but I’ll be fine.”

“Well, if you need to talk--”

“Thanks, buddy.” he clapped him on the shoulder. Oliver disappeared from the room and Tommy’s demeanor changed slightly. “I really didn’t see the guy, Barr. Apart from flashes.”

“Thank you.”

Tommy’s next words took Barry by surprise. “Do you think this Arrow guy has something to do with your mother’s case?” Barry blinked slowly. “What?”   


Tommy gave him a look. “Come on, you don’t think I’m stupid do you?” his expression was dubious. “Laurel told me you’ve been interested and like Ollie said, there really wasn’t a need for a CSI when Lance took our statements.”

Barry avoided his eyes, pointedly. "I--" 

“I’m sorry I don’t have anything useful for you.” he did seem a bit apologetic, but then of course followed up with a joke. “I swear, next time I’m rescued by the hood I’ll ask for his name! Come on, I’ll get you a ride home.” he gestured for Barry to follow him out to the car.   
  
As they walked Tommy seemed on edge in a way that Barry couldn’t place. He was lying about  _ something _ . Which was odd for Tommy, Barry could admit. He didn’t lie about much these days. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Barry asked once his kit was secure in the back.

“I’m fine. How was the last Crypto hunt?” Tommy wasted no time in changing the subject. Barry had no idea how backwards his head was at the moment. Even beyond the trauma of the day.   
  
“It was a partially dead end.” Barry shrugged his shoulders. “Apparently the man who can talk to fish is kind of a recent thing?” he didn’t know why he so easily gave over to talking to Tommy about it. “I'm at a dead end until they reach out to me with school records.”   
  
“That sucks.”

“Why are you asking?” Barry pressed.   
  
Tommy shrugged his shoulders. “Laurel’s told me about your adventure and I was curious.” he didn’t seem to be lying. “Listen … I’m sure the answers you’re looking for about the hood guy are closer than you think. Just be careful, okay?”   
  
“I’m always careful.” Barry’s tone was firm, of course Tommy underestimated him. Everyone did. He was Detective Lance’s clumsy ward. That was his reputation, and while he couldn’t say that it was one hundred percent wrong, it was frustrating. Barry was probably one of the most gifted Crime Scene investigators in the city and he had to fight tooth and nail to not be treated as a child.   
  
“Forgive me for being a little worried, the guy snapped necks with his bare hands.” Tommy’s words sent a chill down his spine. 

"You think I can't handle myself?"

“Nah, man. You’re capable but this guy is a maniac.” and Barry believed him, at least he seemed genuine. When Tommy's car service dropped him off at home he made some additions to his files on the vigilante.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[Warnings: Usual grief.  
> Notes: This chapter is a bit transitional again sorry, but I had fun writing it (: Also Mystery isn't really my thing so lol.]]

Tommy stood awkwardly in the doorway of Laurel’s apartment. He’d just knocked a moment ago and part of him wanted to bolt. Things between him and Laurel had been tricky but he was so painfully serious about her, which wasn’t something he’d ever found himself thinking about anyone.   


When she opened the door she seemed surprised to see him, but not upset, which Tommy was grateful for.   
  
“Hey, Laur!” He grinned brightly, swallowing his nerves as he always did. “I saw your favourite take out place on my way home and thought I would grab something for you.”   
  
“Come on in,” she moved to the side. “How’s everything with that brewery project?”

“Pfft, I scrapped that. I don’t want to go to business classes. I’ll find something I can be good at, it’s just not going to be business I guess.”   
  
Laurel was a bit tight lipped, but she couldn’t say she was surprised at all. “Of course.”

They settled in for dinner and half way through laurels thought of something. "Just so you know, I'm not having sex with you."

"I wasn't going to ask." Tommy's eyebrows pulled together as he search Laurels face for a joke, but there did not seem to be one. Laurel seemed unphased by his reaction as she returned to one of the files Barry had brought her. He cleared his throat. “Uh, well, Laurel, I think we need to talk about … us.”

“There isn’t an ‘us’ Tommy.” Laurel said seriously.

Tommy clutched his hands together. “What about before? Don’t you remember how it was? When we would watch movies with Barry, and he would explain whatever big science thing he was fixated on? Or do you remember when it was just us? You would come over … and I would make omelets …”

Laurel reached out and placed a hand on Tommy’s clasped ones. "… You're good for that--"

"But not to be serious? I'm just a rebound. I get it." He sighed heavily and took a step back. He was a bit winded but refused to let it show. 

Laurel hesitated, then him a serious look. "Tommy, you know that's not what I meant."

"I forgot I'm always going to be a joke."

Laurel was mad now, she didn't know how to respond to this. It felt out of the blue, she wasn't ready, and if she wasn't ready to talk about it for this long, would she ever be? Her mind was moving too fast, trying to understand too many things at once. "Well, maybe if you were ever serious about anything in your life I would trust you! You can’t even stick with a college class for a week, how is that supposed to assure me that you aren’t the same guy I went to highschool with?"

She took the defensive route, of course she did. As if the night couldn't get any worse. Things would only spiral downwards from here.

"You know what? Fine. I'll go hang out with Barry, unless I'm a joke to him too." Tommy headed out, leaving their food on the table.

When he texted Barry he was informed that he was still at work, and accepted Tommy's offer to bring food. 

Barry took in the sight of Tommy standing uncertainty in the doorway. "What’s the matter?" It was unusual for Tommy to show his true feelings. Sure, he always spoke his mind but it was always hidden in a joke.

"Well, my date with the first Lance went south, so you're my next choice. Please let me stay? I'm 99.98% positive Officer Lance would shoot me if I went to his office-- even baring gifts of Big Belly Burger." He dropped the bag on Barry’s desk as he spoke, not really wanting a reply.

“Oh man, but that 0.02% chance you got there. Totally worth taking,” Barry smiled, trying to push the banter a bit. “Just don’t make me call you dad." Not that Barry say Detective Lance as a father figure anymore, but he could tell something was going on with Tommy. He went along with the bit to keep things lighter, not wanting to make the wrong move and cause him to flee.

"Never in my life have I seen such disrespect," Tommy put his hands on his hips. "You're grounded."

Barry laughed but  pulled out a chair for Tommy. “I always look forward to seeing you.” He was honest, Tommy wasn’t the only one who missed the earlier days.  
  
“So,” Tommy started unloading the bag. “What were you working on before I stormed in and threatened to be your step-dad?”

Barry sighed. “Mostly dead ends … I can’t say too much-- ongoing investigation--” He lied, he just didn’t want to deal with Tommy’s taunts about working with Oliver. “Someone broke into the residents home and rearranged a bunch of paintings.    
  
They had the insurance holder list because they somehow managed to follow it and move everything except for the first and last.”   
  
Tommy grinned. “Can I have a look? I’m pretty good at puzzles.” he wiggled his eyebrows dramatically.  
  
Barry laughed. “You want to try?” He slid the list across the table. “I mean … I guess it couldn’t hurt?”   
  
He eventually noticed that the moved paintings had fairly specific names. He started to look through his basic puzzle solving methods, looking first at the letters in each word.   
  


_ Oak Trees - Unmoved _ _   
_ _ Forest Life _

_ Ice Castle _

_ Northern Lights _ _   
_ _  
Dancing Trees _ _   
_ _  
Matthew’s Song _ _   
_ _  
Meadow Breeze  
_ _  
Eternal Wonderland _

_ Bold Colour _

_ Yellow Flowers _

_ Temple Vines _

_ Runner _

_ Inside Voice _

_ Venice at Night  _

_ Even Now _

_ Redwood Door _

_ Dancing By the River - Unmoved _ _   
  
_

Tommy wrote something down and circled it:  
_  
FIND ME BY THE RIVER _

The nearest river was rather far away, so Barry assumed it was a reference to another painting. The painting in The’s room had been a waterfall, though he wondered if that would still count.    
  
“This is-- wow Tommy! I had no idea you were so great with puzzles.”

“No one ever asks,” He laughed awkwardly, but his eyes were a bit sad. A bit of vulnerability he rarely showed with Barry, or anyone for that matter.   
  
It was late but Barry decided to text Oliver anyway.  
  
 **Barry:** _Oliver, I’m at the lab and I found a message in the paintings. It seems to be referencing another painting. It says Meet me by the river. We’re fairly far from the river so I think it’s a reference to another painting. Maybe I should do some searches with a black light, see if there’s another message?_

To Barry’s surprise he replied right away.  
  
 **Oliver:** _Please come investigate further as soon as you can. Tonight if possible._

**Barry:** _I’m leaving right now._

Barry looked at Tommy sympathetically. “I … really have to go I’m sorry, there’s a thi--”

“You’re going to Oliver.”

“Look, it’s a really long story--"

“I’ll wait for you to get back.” He watched Barry grabb his kit and head out.    


* * *

The manor was silent when he arrived; casting an eerie feeling over Barry. He was glad that Oliver wasn’t alone when he arrived. A tall dark-skinned man sat with him. After Oliver introduced him as John Diggle Barry began to investigate the first river-based painting that Oliver showed him to. Checking it over with a UV light.  
  
Nothing came up, but Barry didn’t feel defeated. It was the first of about five Oliver pointed out. “You were in the army?”  
  
Diggle nodded. “I was a master sergeant, I did a few tours in Afghanistan.”  
  
“Oh wow. Thank you for your service.”

“Yeah.” Diggle was too stoic to let the awkwardness of the exchange show through.   
  
Oliver interrupted. “The next one is through here.”

Barry continued to search the paintings, Barry checked a few again. Easily falling into a rhythm. He was meticulous, even looking behind the paintings again. “That’s all of them.”

“No?” Barry’s eyebrows pulled together.   
  
“Yes.”   
  
“There’s the one in the dining hall too.” Barry moved past Oliver and went to the dining room. It was still as well, aside from the sound of someone in the kitchen. Barry ignored that though, moving to the painting. He stepped out of his sneakers, one at a time so he could stand on a chair and move the painting to the table. He began to shine the light over it.

Lettering appeared that Barry began to process. “It says…” Barry dropped the LED. What the hell, Oliver?” his head whipped around.  
  
“What’s wrong?”   
  
“What is wrong with you?”   
  
Oliver took a step forward and placed a hand on Barry’s shoulder. “What did you see, what’s wrong?”   
  
Barry shoved his hand away, hard. “Do not touch me.”  
  
“Barry--”   
  
“She was my sister, you sicko.”

“What are you talking about?” as Oliver was focused on calming Barry, Diggle picked up the light.   
  
He cast it over the painting again. “It just says the name Sara. I’m guessing that means Barry’s sister?”

Oliver tried to remedy the situation. “Barry, I didn’t do this.”

Barry didn’t listen; he refused. He just left. Beelined right out the front door. He nearly dropped his keys trying to get them into the ignition. Once he was far enough away from the property he pulled over onto the side of the road. He closed his eyes and leaned his head onto the steering wheel, his breathing picking up.

He felt everything crashing down on him. He knew trusting Oliver was a mistake. He never should have let Oliver talk him into doing a private investigation. He closed his eyes but the tears had already begun to fall down his face to accompany his laboured breathing.    
  
His stomach churned, he tried to wrap his head around the situation. What would Oliver gain from that? Payback for shunning him? Barry heard a tap on his window. When he glanced up he saw a bright flashlight and part of a uniform. He quickly rolled down his window and looked up.   
  
“Everything alright, son?” It was Detective Lance. Of course it was. That was just the kind of luck he would have tonight.   
  
“I’m fine.”   
  
“You don’t look fine.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you need me to call someone?” Lance pressed, not quite sure what to do. He knew Barry would never talk to him.   
  
“No. I-I’m going home right now. Can you let me go?” Barry asked, moving his gaze on the windshield.   
  
Lance sighed. “Yeah, Barry. Go ahead.”

Barry started the car and drove off again, the last thing he needed was for Lance to see him like that. He hated it; Lance had already decided he was ‘crazy’. He didn’t need this adding to it.

* * *

When Barry arrived at work the next day he was hoping for a day of quiet. He didn’t expect much more than what was regularly expected; a shooting, some robberies.

He was disappointed; It was barely ten in the morning when two men entered his office. Oliver Queen and John Diggle. Oliver held something in his hands, it was boxy with a tarp over it.   
  
“Get out.”

“Hold on, Barry.” Oliver said seriously. “I’m not here to hassle you.”   
  
“Really? Because that’s all you’ve been doing lately. You show up at my work and ask me to do under the table investigations, you show up at Laurel’s job?” he crossed his arms. “Then you pull this stunt with the painting. What kind of sicko are you? Sara was my  _ sister _ . I know she was just some kind of sex-scapade for you but she  _ died. _ ”

“Barry. I increased security around the manor, I didn’t do this. I’ve got a peace offering.” Setting the item he’d brought in on the desk, he pulled the cover away. “This painting was really special to Sara. I don’t know what’s going on, but you should have it if you want.”

Barry watched his carefully. “How am I supposed to trust you? Who else would write Sara’s name on a painting in your house?”   
  
Oliver shrugged once. “I don’t expect you to trust me, but the painting is yours for you and Laurel to do what you like with it.”

Barry sighed and pinched his nose between his forefinger and thumb.  _ What was Oliver playing at _ ? It didn’t add up. Barry let Oliver manipulate him into doing private investigation work for Thea, and Barry was supposed to just trust that Oliver didn’t orchestrate the whole thing? 

“Thank you?” Was the only thing he could think of to say. He watched as Oliver left without another word.   
  
On the stairs Diggle asked “The painting traumatises him and then you gave it to him? Are you trying to make him hate you? I’m starting to wonder if you  _ did _ write her name on there.”

Oliver shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t but we might has well make the most of the situation.” With that, they left the precinct, not wanting Barry to see them in the hallway. They couldn’t risk a scene, they’d already drawn enough attention to themselves bringing the painting in.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurel tries to get Barry a date, but he comes home with something much more better in his opinion. Things start to take off with the Arrow and Oliver needs another favor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[Warnings: At the end.  
> Notes: Thanks for sticking with me! (: I'm going to be really honest though, I know next to nothing about the cat adoption process, I foster dogs. I've never fostered cats, but I did adopt kittens at an adoption event when I ws 16 or so, but that's the extent of my expierence with cats. If anyone with more expiernce has objections feel free to voice them!]]

_ Barry tiredly leaned his head against Sara’s shoulder. He felt safe there, not in the way he needed most, but it was enough. He was so loaded up with medications he didn’t need that he was sedated far too much. “Do you think I’m crazy?” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Sara gently wrapped an arm around him, her fingers combing through his hair. “Of course not, I’ve never thought that.” She frowned deeply. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ His surroundings were fuzzy and hard to interpret, but he felt Sara’s arm around him and the hand in his hair. “I feel sick.” _

_ “Dad said your meds might have side effects.”  
  
_ _ “I don’t feel good.” _

_ “I know, Barry.” She sighed and her hand came down to his forehead, he didn’t seem warm, but that didn’t negate how ill he felt. “Laurel was better at this.” she spoke softly in his ear. She thought Laurel would know what to do more than her, but neither of his sisters could give him the full peace he needed. No one could. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Laurel wouldn’t have been much help though; she had no idea how bad it was for Barry at home. Sara didn’t know how to explain it, and Barry’s pain had fallen into the background. Sara was the only one who could see the full extent. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Is Barry still not feeling well?” asked Dinah as she entered the living room. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Sara glared at the floor. “You already know he’s sick, mom.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “I’m sorry, honey. I know it’s hard to see him like this.” _

_ “Dinah, my head hurts,” tears welled up in Barry’s eyes now, prickling at the corners of his eyes and spilling over. “and my stomach hurts.”  _

_ “I know, sweetie. We’re going to try something else this week, after we talk to Dr. Luis.” _

_ “Dr. Luis is mean.” _

_ “He’s an expert, honey. Sometimes they’re a little uptight.” _

_ “I don’t like him.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Mom, it’s just making him sick.” Sara interjected. _

_ “I don’t know what you want me to say, honey, it’s going to take a while to find what helps him.” _

_ Barry slowly drifted off to sleep against Sara’s shoulder and she let him slide down into her lap, continuing to stroke his hair. Sara felt a pressure building inside her, seeing Barry so sick. _

_ When Laurel came home and woke Barry up, she was completely unaware of the previous argument. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Hey, B-man! Get up, sleepy head we’re going to see a movie!” Tommy grinned widely at the tired tween, he seemed to find it amusing how red Barry’s face got, but Barry was too tired today to really react, and Barry never knew if he was remembering things right. _

_ “What are we going to see?” Sara asked, getting up from the sofa, jolting Barry awake. _

When Barry awoke in his empty apartment, he felt a little sad. It had been a while since he’d dreamt of Sara. He slowly sat up and rubbed his face before looking at the clock.  _ Shit _ he thought.  _ I’m going to be late again _ . He rushed for a shower; cold because he didn’t even have time to let the water warm up. Barry thought about the past when he was on the bus, remembering how Oliver had tried to pay with hundred dollar bills in a hole in the wall theatre in one of the Starling Suburbs. Tommy had tried to save the day with a credit card, which also didn’t go too well.

Part of Barry missed Tommy again, but he pushed that thought aside. He did hope Tommy would forgive him for running out; he had never stunted him before but he still worried. Barry was running out of connections in the city. He supposed he could reach out to old friends, but he didn’t know if things would be different now, he wasn’t sure if he could risk it.

* * *

Towards the end of the day at work, Laurel showed up, to his surprise. "Hey, Barr, glad I caught you."

Barry jumped slightly, the files in his hands nearly flying everywhere.

He hadn't told her anything about working with Oliver, and he wasn't going to. He just hoped Tommy hadn't said anything to her. “What’s up?”   
  
Being used to his squirly nature, Laurel didn’t blink. “I have an event tonight, and I really think you should meet some of the people who run it.” Laurel didn’t have to be as subtle with Barry as she was with the other guy she had been plotting to set him up with for about a week now. Ever since she settled the shelter’s case she thought Barry and the owner would be a great match, and had already talked him up quite a bit.  
  
She still wasn’t exactly sure how she’d convinced Barry to go, but she managed. He was eager to come to the shelter event. He saw Tommy was there as well, holding a small kitten in his arms. He was about to begin to gravitate towards him and see where things stood, but Laurel squeezed Barry's arm lightly. "I have to go talk to Chris, but I'll be right back. You should look at the cats."

"Okay!" Barry smiled and started to gravitate towards a room in the back of the toom, a little farther away from the people. Laurel was too focused on him, she didn’t know if he was  _ allowed _ to talk to Tommy. 

The room he’d located had a tall glass window and a clear glass door. There wasn’t a sign on the door at all to indicate the animal was quarantined for a reason. He stepped into the room.   
  
The only thing that the sign said was that the cat was female, and had come in with a littler years ago and she was the only one to survive.  
  
“Hi, friend.” Barry’s voice was soft. “How are you doing?”

The cat turned its head in Barry’s direction, and he saw that she didn’t have any eyes, just some bald slits in the middle of her face on each side. “Pretty kitty,” he smiled. “I don’t really have any family left either.”

A man’s voice from behind Barry made him jump. “You found Scarlet--sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” Barry turned around to see a dark haired man, probably a few years older than him, grinning.   
  
“I guess I did. Sorry, she was on her own.”

“Yeah, she just had surgery on her other eye. So we kept her to herself for a bit while it healed up.”

“Her name is Scarlet?”

“Scarlet Witch, all of her litter got marvel names. Her brother was Stark, but he passed a few weeks ago. Are you looking to adopt?”

“Oh, I uh-- I’m Barry Allen--”   
  
“Laurel’s brother!”   
  
It surprised Barry that Laurel spoke about him to her clients. “Yeah, that’s me.” He tried to shrug it off and not act so surprised.   
  
“You know, Scarlet would be great for a forensic scientist. You’re mostly on call, right, with that job?” He crossed his arms and thought for a moment. “Laurel told me all about you. I think you could do well with a cat.”   
  
Barry wasn’t sure he would do well with a cat. He’d always wanted a pet but he wasn’t sure if he would have the time for one, he certainly didn’t have time for the dog he’d always wanted. Not even the police dog that was retired from SCPD after her handler died days before her retirement.

“Laurel told you-- uh, yeah. Kind of. I work ten to two but I’m on call all the time,” he explained. “I get called a couple times a week including my day off.”

“That sounds perfect for her, really. Sorry,” he laughed awkwardly. “My name’s Christopher, I’m the owner.” he extended a hand to Barry. “I almost feel like I know you.”

“Oh, wow, I hope she didn’t tell you  _ everything _ .” He laughed a bit uncomfortable as he shook his hand. There were lots of embarrassing stories from his youth, a lot of them surrounding Sara so he hoped those would be kept underwraps.   
  
He shrugged. “She told me about the handcuff incident.”   
  
“Oh, god. That’s the  _ worst _ story she could have told you.”

“I thought it was charming. A little stupid, but hey, we’ve all don’t some things we didn’t think through. Lord knows I have.”

“So,” Barry quickly changed the subject when he saw Christopher’s eyes dart over Barry. _Oh_ _it’s like that._ He swallowed. _No thanks._ “How does this work? I’m twenty-one, I’ve never really adopted before, my sister had a bird when we were kids but--.” Christopher was cute, of course. Barry Allen had eyes. Was his type too. He just wasn’t looking for that, not here, not right now.  
  
He wasn’t ready to date someone, not with everything that was being dug up. He didn’t have room in his life to try to fit dinner plans between.

“Well, lets see how she likes you while I get some paperwork and talk you through it.” He offered, backing out of the small room just a bit.   
  
“That sounds great.” Barry reached out to stroke the cat’s head softly. “Hey, girl.” He smiled. “pretty kitty.” he’d never really interacted with a cat before, besides the one his upstairs neighbor had, and that was rare. Barry ended up lifting the cat into his arms. The cat seemed to settle into his arms easier than expected.   
  
That seemed to cement things for Barry. The cat seemed a bit trusting but her informationed seemed to indicate she’d been raised at the shelter around people and cats.   
  
When Christopher returned, he announced his presence with a musical laugh. “Wow, you just went for it, huh?”

A flush of embarrassment filled Barry. “I’m sorry, was I not supposed to pick her up?”

Barry was waved off with a dismissive hand gesture. “No, you’re fine. She likes you. Here’s out application,” he showed the clipboard to Barry. “Do you have any questions?”

“Does she need anything for her eyes?” Barry kissed the cat’s head, making her squeak a tiny bit.  
  
“No,” he shook his head. “She’s already adjusted. The eye we removed wasn’t working and it got an infection in and behind it … so we elected for removal. She loves exploring so just make sure you keep your windows closed.”

“You just need to fill this out, and normally we’d ask for references but Laurel has vouched for you.”

“Oh wow … What’s the adoption fee? Can I bring her home tonight?”

“I’d be willing to make an exception for that since she’s been here for about two years now.” Chris seemed eager to give the cat to Barry, and Laurel said he was honest.

Barry ndded, scratching a bit under the cat's chin. A soft purr coming from the animal. Barry kissed her head. “She’s pretty easy to please,” he laughed softly before setting her back down to look at the paperwork.   
  
The adoption fee wasn’t as high as he’d expected it to be, but it was still quite a bit so he was able to write a check. “I’ve got a little window in my apartment that looks out over the park, and it gets a real nice breeze, maybe she’ll like to sit up there and smell everything through the screen.”

Chris laughed. “Maybe, she likes her outside time we give the cats on the grass a whole lot.”

“Oh that’s good … Maybe I should get some more plants.”

“Just make sure they’re cat-safe.”

Laurel finally located the boys. “Chris, I was looking for you.” she grinned brightly when she saw they were talking. She seemed pleased. “I’m glad you met Barry!”

“Oh, yeah. He totally seems like a cat person. He found Scarlet right away, and we just finalised adoption. I’ll have to arrange a home check in the future but congrats on your new furry friend.”  
  


When they returned to Barry's apartment, Laurel decided to broach the subject. "You … adopted a special needs cat?" Laurel arched one brow. This was exactly the kind of thing she'd expected him to do; see a lonely animal and declare it part of his family. This felt strange though. She had been trying to get him a  _ date _ , not a cat.   
  
Barry set the cat down and set out a dish of water on the floor for her. “There you go, Scarlet.” he gave the back of her neck a gentle scratch. “It’s fine, Laur. I don’t have anything bad she could get into.”

“I was trying to get you a date with Chris.” She sighed, exhaperted.   
  
Barry laughed. “Uh, Chris is  _ not _ my type.”   
  
“First of all, he is exactly your type. Tall, nice arms, cares about animals.”

“Maybe I don’t want to date anyone yet. Maybe I’m not ready.”

“Barry Allen, you are somehow both a twelve year old and an old man in the romance department. You’ve been ready for marriage since birth.”   
  
Barry crossed his arms. “I-” he began, but couldn’t exactly argue with her. He’d always been a bit of a romantic even if he was quiet about people he was interested in. He found himself thinking about Danny again, he didn’t think he was romantically interested in, but he was definitely attractive. It was the first lingering crush he’d had in years. Even that was fading though, it was only skin deep. "Let me breathe, Laurel. I _just_ came out to you."   
  
If he was being honest, he was scared of anything more.

* * *

The first time the Arrow stole a file from Barry, he genuinely thought he’d lost it. He had gone searching for it in a panic, only for it to have been put back into place a week later. He knew it had to have been the arrow. The lock on his drawer had to have been picked he was the only one with a key besides the captain who hadn’t been in lately, so it wasn’t anyone in the precinct.   
  
So Barry set up his trap. He cleaned up his office, and staged going home for the day. He snuck back into his own lab, leaving the lights off, he waited. He sat in that chair for hours. He stayed put until the window was pushed open and a hooded man slipped inside. He must have taken Barry for a fool. 

Barry was able to shut the window. “What do I call you?” As soon as he spoke, there was an arrow pointed in his face. They stared at each other while Barry slowly raised his hands. “I’m on your side.”

The hood slowly lowered his weapon. His hood obscured his face and he hung back, never allowing Barry more than two steps before he slunk to another area of the lab. “What do I call you?” Barry repeated.   
  
A scrambled voice answered Barry. “The Arrow.”

“Alright, Arrow.” Barry kept his hands where the vigilante could see them. “I have information you need. I want a favour first though.”

The Arrow growled low. “I won't be extorted.”   
  
“This isn’t an extortion. I could lose my job, be thrown in jail for not reporting you. I just want some help.” Barry swallowed hard, he wasn’t sure why he thought he could pull this off. “You didn’t kill Oliver Queen and Tommy Merlyn, so I think we’re on the same page. This city needs help.”

The bow was lowered again. “What do you want?”   
  
“There’s a boy. He was found dead in the glades. The police think it was something gang related. Either he just got caught in crossfire or if he was directly involved.” Barry dared to take a step closer. “They pretty much shoved the case to the back burner. He was fourteen years old. Gunshot wound to the head, no bullets on the scene. His mother has been fighting to get the city to reopen his case and try harder but it’s still on hold.”   
  
The Arrow was silent. Barry couldn’t tell if he was thinking or if he was ignoring him. He waited. Trying to get a better view of him but failing. He offered the folder to him, with the boy’s information and a photo. The arrow took it. “I’ll see what my team can do.”   
  
“You have a team?” Barry’s eyebrows pulled together. It was amazing to him how many theories he had that were correct. He wondered where the arrow trained. “I knew you had partners!”

The Arrow took the file along with another that Barry couldn’t place just from watching him take it. It was a weird feeling. He’d just had an arrow pointed in his face but he felt alive. He felt something was changing, right beyond his reach.   
  
When the Arrow returned to him it was not exactly good news. The boy had been killed in some illegal activity. Though it seemed he was an innocent victim. A kidnapping turned murder. Barry had the confession on tape courtesy of the vigilante  _ days _ after requesting it. He passed it on to Detective Lance anonymously, hoping that would be enough to reopen the case and give the boy’s mother some closure.

Laurel accepted the file hesitantly. "Where did you get this?" Laurel asked seriously as she began to look over the confession note.   


Barry stared forward. “I’ve got a few connections.”

* * *

Barry didn’t have any further run-ins with the Arrow after that. He figured that should be a good thing, but he had so many questions for him. The one heavy on his mind, was if he was really human. He decided instead to focus on his friends. He spent most of his time emailing with Ray and Jean, they’d moved onto a larger plot of land for their rescue dogs.   
  
Barry was encouraging, and he was surprised to receive a phone call from one of the twins he and Laurel went to school with. When he said they should get coffee, she had mistaken it for a date and declined. That had been a bit awkward but he pushed through it, making plans to have lunch with the both of them the coming weekend, a promised he soon learned he would not be able to keep.

However he was jerked from that train of thought when he entered his lab to see Oliver Queen standing by his desk. Barry heaved a sigh. “What do you need now, Oliver?” his eyebrows pulled together. His arms crossing firmly across his chest. “If I do any more under the table investigations for you, I could lose my job.” That wasn’t entirely true, but it would up the risk of him getting caught by the captain.

However when Oliver looked up at him, there wasn’t even the smallest hint of snark. “It’s Thea. You have to help me.” he seemed to be pleading. Something Barry had never seen before. Whatever was happening with Thea, it was bad.

Oliver launched into a lengthy explanation. Barry got the gist. Thea overdosed. Was in rehab. Apparently in a lot of trouble. Barry couldn’t help but feel compassion for her. She didn’t deserve to stumble down the same path as her brother. Barry could tell Oliver was upset, though who wouldn’t be?

He had to help, for Thea, didn't he? His conscience wouldn't let him turn his back on her, or the other people in this city who were being hurt, and who would be hurt by this drug.   
  
Oliver had tracked the count down to a hideout in Chicago; John Diggle had said huge drug lords like this often had headquarters scattered across the country to avoid detection, and to protect themselves if they were discovered. The drug crime Barry dealt with in his time at SCPD was so minor that he trusted DIg, with a few army tours under his belt to know more than he did.

The three were staying at a relatively nice hotel, which surprised Barry. Oliver informed Barry that they would be leaving some of their stuff in this hotel, then moving on. He even had Diggle leak a few photos to the press of Oliver coming out of the hotel. For what reason, though, Barry wasn’t entirely sure, but honestly wouldn’t put it past Oliver if he was just being cheeky and stirring up trouble.   
  
After that, they quickly moved to a more quiet location, and it quickly became apparent that they were laying on the down low, but Oliver was attempting a distraction. The motel they were staying in now was falling apart. Oliver even put something over the beds before sitting on them.   
  
“You should set up your stuff over there.” He pointed to an available corner, and honestly, Oliver suggesting it made him a bit resistant but there wasn’t exactly room anywhere else. And honestly? He was still feeling sick about lying to Laurel, but she would have tried to stop him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[Warnings: medical abuse, grief, discussion of cat eye surgery.]]

**Author's Note:**

> [[This list is about 90% accurate if you're wondering about when Chapters will go up (: https://trello.com/b/RVPi7JCP/red-canary thank you so much for reading.]]


End file.
